Just leave the map behind;
you’ll find yourself just south
of
(numb)
thumb, anyway. Down under. Down.
Bring no friends. Isolation’s
key. See, he doesn’t even want
you to see the destination,
just the desperate sensation
of needing
(him)
something you can’t reach.
Do bring a hat
because that’s
the only way
to cap the thoughts
(don’t say them.)
The travelin’ tunes will leave
much to be desired. You’ll grow
tired of the ranting and the raves.
Save your breath; he’ll pass out
soon.
Ask the moon how she quiet
-ly wanes. You’ll want to know
because the shrinking glow
will be all too familiar. And
she just might light(en)
your way.
Ask yourself how
many miles more
you can possibly hang
in.
Ask for directions
to rock
bottom.
And then,
ask the sun
how to rise again.
::
In April we poem. And sometimes past life sneaks in.
“Ask for directions
to rock
bottom.“
Oh my gosh. Those are the very best line breaks ever!
This poem is heartbreaking. It definitely needed the levity above. There is ALWAYS hope … especially for lighter loads.