Sometimes my mind
Is constipated
And the words aching
To come out
Are clogged in the sphincter
Of my thoughts
Each fighting to break away
Until none of it manages
And all that comes through
Is empty air.
Sometimes, like an ant
With a tower on its back
My mind struggles
On its fledgling toes
Sometimes the tower crashes
Burying it alive
And sometimes it triumphs
Climbing over the tower
Grasping sight of the world.
Sometimes what it sees
Is too big for its eyes
And sometimes too small
Not worth the great climb.
Still my mind struggles
For a fighting chance
To perceive
The big and small
To see it all.
Sometimes the things it sees
Is inverted
Written in hieroglyphics
Too complex to decipher
But sometimes those things
Are poker-straight
Scribbled by a hapless child
Too simple to have meaning
Both times what it sees
Is senseless
But then again,
What is sense?
If not the desperate search
Of a lost mind
Beating blindly in the dark.
It is dark
In the depths of my mind
But my thoughts are light
And sometimes the words

Are bright

© Claudette oduor