Poetry Journal Feb. 12. 2024

 



Feb. 12, 2024

 Oh no, not again.

Does this never stop, this endless shifting of sand, draining, the hour glass of good time so creates the need to turn it over and begin again, never easy, always hurting, sense of change that changes nothing, she merely older, perhaps not wiser, though maybe believes what does not kill her will make her stronger and it does, only it hardens her heart, making it impossible to reach, this once tender being scarred over, made so remote even the best intentions cannot reach her, though deep down, she needs to be reached



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