Sifting through who I thought I was,
seeking something still unbroken.
Some kind of sign, or indication
that there is still a person
inside,
underneath
all this wreckage.
Buildings fall,
Earth quakes,
atom bombs.
Such as it is,
I can’t find anything.
Send in the dogs.
Out of my mind.
Out of my depth.
Out into the world,
shaking with every breath.
Weaving my way,
through the forest,
seeking the mountain top.
Stop.
I think I’m lost.
Did I come this way?
Do I know this spot?
Walking in circles,
lost in the fog,
and the fray.
Send in the dogs.
Eyes dim,
and breathing slows.
Who knows
where we go.
After this world,
are we on to the next one?
One the edge,
and I’m afraid.
So much to say,
so much left undone.
Then, I feel
beneath my hand,
the warm, furry coat
of a friend
and I’m no longer scared
to go back home.
Send in the dogs.
In this life,
we get lost,
we get sick,
we fall off,
but there is always
someone searching for us.
Send in the dogs.
HG – 2020
