LOST
I stand beside your desk, as you fumble through your planner.
You are lost in tomorrow, knotted with yesterday like a skein of tangled yarn.
The pages fade before you as I stand there, helpless to help – feeling as lost as you appear.
Your eyes reflect confusion, frustration…
Your hands tremble, only slightly, as you stumble between the months.
You are suspended there, between the pages of days in your mind.
I gently guide your thoughts back to today, and finally
Your plans make some sense, enough to make notes.
But as you close the planner, your hand lingers. You re-open the book; your notes drift
to the floor.
“What’s this?” you ask, picking them up, and the process
begins again.
You struggle with the questions, words floating free like balloons escaped from a child’s grasp. And I – a master of words – can find none.
If I could give you the answers, or explain the progression of days, or fasten tight the memories just beyond your reach …
If I could put the gleam of humor back in your eyes, the spark of understanding in your smile, the air of confidence in your life …
If I could stop the relentless march of destruction that has taken you captive …
If I could somehow weild the magic that would restore tomorrow …
But … as I stand beside your desk, you fumble through your planner, and you are lost.
Still.
Again.