Self Help Ghazal
The man of me and boy left behind went digging for redemption
but were scared off by shadow thugs before we went deep enough.
A few laughs with some bears in drag and a naked slip ‘n slide,
each a unique hazard, only remind I never leap enough.
The heron wading the pond edge takes flight, peace disturbed
by breakfast bell. Will equilibrium return if I eat enough?
Vampires are already dead. We can’t kill the memories
sucking at our souls. Maybe they’ll lose interest if I bleed enough.
The bolt on the inside of the closet door confounds
but serves well. Are pardons issued if I weep enough?
Exquisite cerulean skies dominate daybreak until muddled
by dark rumbling clouds and drenching rains when I don’t sleep enough.
Fear the cellar for what monsters might lurk there in dirt
and dust, abused and neglected because I didn’t sweep enough.
Follow the beat of drums, where wolves and bears roam, to find
wisdom sought. Despite the spirits I never seem to keep enough.
©2018 Kenneth W. Arthur
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