poem two

You look at the words.

You think back on the actions.

And this light bulb,

as bright as the Sun,

snaps on almost violently.

Epiphanies are like that

sometimes,

moments where

all we thought we knew,

all the words

we swallowed as truth,

all the gestures

we grasped as

kindness and love,

are washed away,

and we are shown

a stark, unwavering reality.

You are left standing,

stripped naked, grasping

for whatever shreds of your damaged soul

you can piece together

so you can find

that place called functional,

a small patch

of solid ground to stand on

while you decide your next move...

L. Sherman

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