Word Exhaustion
I remember going for a walk on the Black Isle in November. It had rained and the terrain was slippery and unfriendly. Depression and anger were settling in. Words, that have generally been friends and solace, were getting on my nerves. Especially certain traditional positive words.
Word exhaustion
A slippery slope in muddy terrain
entering a realm of pure darkness
trees with mossy trunks
sculpted by time and clean air
autumn leaves under foot
dank remains of summer.
Nowhere and here
lost in a fog of words
trampling on roots of beliefs
clinging to old purpose
mirrored by judging eyes
split between trust and truth
exhausted by gratitude and regret.
Somehow, I will reach the next clearing
a glimmer of hope in the fog.
10 November 2020
