23

I am wound tight.
With every tick of my heart
two hands move clockwise
around the circle of my day,
and the hands are called
Stay and Go.

There are things I don’t know:
The type of caterpillars
in the upstairs closets –
much fatter than wool moth larvae –
and whether they are hungry.
How to catch fish.
How to find peace.
How to make a clock.

There are things I think I know:
Life is precious.
Water flows downhill to the sea.
Even a stopped clock is right twice a day.
But there comes a time
when it doesn’t matter who’s right
if there is too much sorrow
and not enough joy
in the face of the stopped clock.

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About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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2 Responses to 23

  1. Reblogged this on TOO LONELY TO MAKE SENSE and commented:
    This is one of my favourites from a Masterclass wordsmith.

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