Poetry

163. always / never

movement2

*

I didn’t understand it,
couldn’t fathom the reckless wastefulness
of running in circles to the point of dizziness
sheltered in between the glass panels of a revolving door
that was our life –

always on the run,
always bridging the same distance,
always going forwards by going backwards,
always never standing still.

I didn’t try to comprehend it,
didn’t want to see the inherent absurdity of carrying on,
a rat in a spinning wheel,
a student on a monthly schedule of
the push and pull university –

always standing still,
always burning the bridges I’d so arduously built,
always forgetting what I should remember I’d
always wanted and never heard you say.

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