Out Of Reach

Rain-soaked lilac bowers drip

Petals and raindrops both.

.

Shellshocked. Numb.

I take it all in, yet nothing registers.

.

The rain pours down from the pale gray clouds above.

I tip my head back and wait for the rain shower to bring me back to life.

.

Who am I?

What will become of us?

.

Could the universe shrink me down?

Perhaps re-absorb me?

Oh! Could I become an owl?

.

What I’d give in this moment to fly away, so wild and free.

Nowhere in particular I’d have to be.

.

No burdens to bear.

No shame to shoulder.

.

I could fly away from here.

Arrive on your windowsill,

Assure us both that we’ll survive.

.

Maybe I could become a bumblebee?

Small, fuzzy, seemingly carefree.

Please, can we become bumblebees?

.

I’ll form a hive inside that tree.

Everything we’d need would be within reach.

.

That would be simpler, it seems,

Rather than dealing with the monstrous nature of humanity.

.

May I resign from society?

I’d much prefer to keep all those toxic people far away from me.

.

I feel them breaking me,

Jagged pieces drifting off into eternity.

I watch them floating away helplessly.

I sob silently as I say goodbye to the lost bits of me.

.

Standing here, soaked to the bone,

And feeling all alone.

Is the Earth rolling beneath me,

Or are those shudders coming from within?

.

Images flood my mind

Of all the places I’ve been.

The rain blurs my vision,

Goosebumps cover my skin.

.

Where will we go?

How will we get there?

Why must the world keep dealing such blows?

.

Does no one care?

It wasn’t an overnight trip that got us here.

This world is a spinning top.

Spiraling into oblivion,

One catastrophe away from a full stop.

.

Cruelty, callousness, and collusion

Are the specialties of those at the top.

They offer these up like the latest in Asian Fusion.

We’re so low on the rungs of their ladders that they feel entitled to keep on abusin’.

.

I want off this ride,

And to be out of their reach.

Laws have become useless.

We know they don’t practice that which they preach.

.

I turn my face to the sky

Allowing my tears to mix with the raindrops.

I wish I could flit off into the lilac bower

And escape from their corrupt power.

. . .

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This poem was originally published on Medium.