Like twilight slides slowly towards night,
so too does this understanding come upon me.
I am the silent oak, changing little by little,
staying the same while everything around me
changes with such a fierce speed that I cannot keep up.
Perhaps I am immortal, or just long-lived,
and I will remain as I am, unchanged.
The same as everyone I know moves forward
with such destinies that I cannot understand.
I’m waiting for that ax to tear me down,
still and silent, waiting for that something
that will rend me from my existence.
Perhaps it is merely death that I await.
Maybe death is that love I wait for,
that ever encompassing emotion that will end
the fearful, ever darkening future that I will live.
And perhaps I’m waiting for the wrong thing.
I try to move forward but am forever held back
by the loneliness I feel, by the fear I keep
between me and that which I have longed for.

© Johanna Fugitt 2017