Monday

Monday

A Poem by Omar Abdelhamid

 

It is Monday.  

The sky is freshly rolled out

the air is soft and silent

A single crimson leaf

dances above my head

 

And the world is in front of my eyes

but my arms cannot reach out and grab it

 

I am a speck in the ground below

Some hear my whispers

Stoop down to listen.

Pick up the words I drop

And place them into my humble basket

 

  1. Am.  Sinking.

My arms and neck  are stuck in the cement

I cannot reach out, nor do I have a soul to lift me

I am bound to something, something more than me

and it rushes through my bones

through my mind bouncing back and forth and breaking through every thought every memory

And I can feel the frozen bodies of those who fell behind me,  screaming, hoping,

 leaving their legacies

to be plucked by the vulture time

who eats his meal with no haste

they leave it for me

for me  to drop

and for you to stoop down,

pick up, and place into my humble basket

 

They will find me here

if they care to look

frozen

a moment in time

an echo, a memory

 

And every echo is smaller

when there is no one there to hear

please hear

 

Send help

Give my words a way

To break me out

out of this cage

 

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