The practice is calculating, reasoned, free of feeling,
It breaks on the shore, over and over again, ending her endurance, stamina and core,
Filling her head with self-importance and rationale thinking.
The phone rings, her email alarms her of the day's emergencies,
Need, need, need, these people with their money and their fights and their pleas.
She wants to make everyone whole,
To stop the bickering and to set the score to zero zero.
But the clandestine agendas are working to stop her,
The purpose is fading, the justice has faltered.
The marathon continues with no end in sight,
She has no time for conversations or being polite,
The practice breaks against her again and again,
Depleting her resources, her time and her friends.
Her children are all crowded around her,
The computer and deadlines demand her to ignore them,
They wonder why the screen trumps them again,
The practice beating and beating, her children, the lambs, bleating and bleating.
The fractures are sharp, dismantled pieces,
She finds herself wondering, who is she helping and pleasing,
The practice is not what she saw from the tower of books and green lamps and high thoughts of valor.
She longs for the day that she drives purpose and change,
With her kids by her side leading the way,
Her resolve tells her yes, you can be multi-dimensional, without the practice shattering pieces away.
Day after day, the erosion occurs and she wonders away.
YOU ARE READING
Life Interrupted
PoetryI am a wife, mom of 3 under 6, sister to 3 siblings, and an attorney. Originally from Pennsylvania, I moved to South Carolina when I was 15. Life feels disjointed and suffocating lately. This story is my journey to turn things around by changing onl...
