IsabelleRose

Sometimes there are mountains of it,
valleys and fields and rivers of despair. 
And when you think of every face,
you have not seen
but for the pixilated images on a computer screen
and every hallway or classroom

I try my best to write,
get some words down on a page.
I know I should,
but the words are not behaving.
Every time I try to grasp them, 
they slip through my fingers like water.
I can't get more than a few lines.

The moon shone in on my face this morning. 
A small bright orb in the sky,
and I squinted at it as I lay on my side,
drifting in and out of consciousness.
It would be nice to be up there right now,

I thought that I was starting to get somewhere.
Things were finally coming together. 
I was still sad sometimes, but not nearly as often.
We practiced the play down in the basement.
The lights were off and people were laughing.

Maybe life is but a test,
an experiment,
a set of obstacles. 
Maybe someone somewhere is taking notes.

We are given a starting place,
a situation.
Here, see what you can do with this, 
they say.

I read a poem that told me
I was the master of my fate 
and the captain of my soul.
I didn't understand
what that could possibly mean.
Sure, maybe you can steer the boat,
but sometimes the sea,
has a mind of its own.