There He Sat
written by: Don Knowles
@DonKnowles3
There he sat
Head in hands
Thoughts run deep
Seeping into cracks
Without a doubt
No words corrupting
He sat alone
Nights were cold
Days seem long
Time clicked on
Rest beckoned him
He sat still
Deep in memorial
Of parted moments
All now recovering
His name forgotten
Her smile fading
Were stronger now
With reflection satiating
There he was
A sole survivor
His private island
Castaway of suburbia
Counting the tides
Arch of sunset
Moons sweeping slide
Sols condescending March
But then he stood
He swung silently around
Took three deep breaths
Firmly standing his ground
He recognized the light
He embraced the dark
shadows now all combined
He knew at once
All lifelong loves rejoicing
preciousness of all interweaving
One more step forward
Blank slates on horizons
Sitting still isn’t bad
Getting up is better
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
No one is ever alone. Reach out!
Don Knowles
Born in West Chester Pa in 1960 I have been inspired to begin writing again through my interactions with two people I care deeply about that are experiencing the torrents of mental illness.
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