Poetry

Dire Dullness

24 Jun , 2021  

We meet with stark denial
The unspeakable unknown.
A dire dullness creeps,
Settles, swaths in sleep
A dawning, drowning
Dismal truth.

Wild-eyed the urge
To turn the page, to skim
To skip ahead, past present
Pandemic plodding
(Just a peek!)
To find out how it ends.

Who cares? Who cares.
Read slowly, savor sunshine.
Put away the flashlight, sleep –
Not every tale tells
Lies and lives…
Happily ever after.

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No Responses

  1. Very foreboding and yet, quite … enlightening, I think that’s the word I want to use. It reminds me of Asimov’s Nightfall, in the sense that everyone dreads the unknown.

    Living in a world that mirrors the horrors we only read about requires a mindshift that may not be easy to conjure. What good is it to live in a time of advanced medicine when the basic tenets of healthcare can’t be followed? What good are the artificial intelligences that forecast and predict, if their creators are blind to the prognostications?

    Which is worse, being in denial or being in dread? How about having to sit cheek by jowl with one on each side? (Thankfully, not something I have to endure.) I just try to believe that “This, too, shall pass.”

    Cheers,

    Mitch
    Mitchell Allen recently posted…The Last SupperMy Profile

  2. […] a journal; we know that we are living through what will be a historically momentous time. However dull and lethargic your mind feels in the present moment, take time to reflect and jot down your own […]

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