I’m lying in a pool of sludge –
A mush of soil and clay –
And feel no need to move or budge,
Much less to get away.
It matches how my life’s turned out;
There’s no illusion now.
I suffer neither hope nor doubt
But wallow in this slough.
And yet there was a time or two
When, dancing in the air,
I thought there’s nothing I can’t do
With spirit, verve and flare.
It’s long ago, though, that my blood
Turned into yellow, liquid mud.
Photo by Samuel Scrimshaw on Unsplash
Impassivity
