A Termination of Inward Peace
Keep busy! There’s no long regret, no voice –
It’s hallucinations – fill in all my time
With some things that may one day, one day, chime,
Patterns that will hopefully make rhyme:
Never mind the past, the vast, the “choice”.
Keep busy! In my trivia, let me lose
All sense of being in a universe conjoined,
All sense of being stamped, of being coined,
Of finer metal than the fears that “choose”.
Keep busy! Lest there whisper from the bed,
In those untrammelled hours of unchained night,
A sense of what is wholesome, what’s still right,
A sense of what could follow, of what might
Have been, if he or she weren’t dead.
Don’t dwell on it! In reckless effort smother
That once I was a maid, once betrayed,
That once I let the light of freedom fade,
Suborned into the night, and overlaid,
And so, briefly, was a mother.
I could have been awake all night, and nursing colic
With a precious babe my own – not workaholic –
Instead of being awake, heart turned to stone,
Feeling like a rat, and all alone.
- Joseph Biddulph 17th January 2016