Fire
Sad poem, from a previous life...
Fire
My words fall over themselves
to reach you.
They are crammed
in the door of my mouth
in a flat panic
like bodies jammed
in a fire escape,
somehow blocked.
But my head
is a crowded tenement,
decrepit and condemned.
They will not reach
the air outside –
the exit doors are locked.
David Kirkby
We have all been there - trapped in our own head….
So beautifully sad.
You write so beautifully David, so much said with so few words….a concentrated powerful essence. We have all been there.