One Day

And just when bone deep exhaustion

In my soul clamours for a break from it all…

A gusty wind picks up, and whooshes through

The curtain, that partly opened window;

The one I tried to shut. Tight.

And out billows tendrils of not just

My stringy hair…

But labored threads of threatening thoughts.

The “What If”s, the regrets, the tiny tenacious lichen-like

Scabs of memories. Of another day.

This gutsy gusty thing. I wish I could be it.

Someday.

23 July, 2012