standing still

I feel the heat
like a hanging weight
dragging down
from where it drapes
across my shoulders

I cannot stand so tall
as once I did
in easier days

when the truth
was just another season
passing

and I
was a child
and sweetly
unaware

the sun was my friend
back then
the warm times
were a joy

from the plenty
to the destitution

halfway along

there

is that me I glimpsed
standing still
and stunned
while the storm
is rushing on

yes the heat
has made me a smaller man
because I know
the fire
is mine

it has grown large
as I
am become less

where I once basked
so cheerfully
now
I bake my heart
into the charred silhouette
of what I once was


© Frank Prem, 2017

Poem #15: the green and the brown


We need to write about Climate Change

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8 thoughts on “standing still

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