She is locked in; she hates this

On the ward with the crazy people;

she really hates this.

For the whole night,

she stands at the window

stares into the black ,

wonders where she’s left it this time.

Each time she misplaces

her equilibrium, her sanity,

her carefully crafted norm,

she finds herself here,

or somewhere so alike here,

it could be mistaken for here.

She finds herself thinking,

and then chides herself

for thinking, in eccentric,

concentric circles

Knows well that this kind

of non-linear thinking

is considered unhealthy–

albeit creative and interesting,

to some, but no –

Stop it, her inner voice screams–

you keep this up girl

and you will never see your

semi-precious mind again.

This time, it will have split

for a skull more hospitable,

less alienating.

She ponders how close the words

hospitable and hospital seem,

and wonders idly if one

is derived from the other.

Then, as if with physical force,

yanks her thoughts back from there…

Tells herself to, look, look, look –

you know you always do find it

You just have to focus, walk backwards

in your head the way Big Bird

used to tell the kids,

and you’ll remember

where you last had it.

Your mind will be right where you left it;

just hope it’s not on a bus

Or in some stranger’s bed,

or like the last time,

on the ledge of a building,

Just hope that, she thought

as she watched the sun slice open the day.


3 thoughts on “WONDERING WHERE

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