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Circling the Wagons Circling the wagons, And tryin’ to slay dragons, That no one else can see. She is a fragile moment, Caught in the thickness of an uncertain air. It’s like trying to read Braille while going down a bumpy road. We’ve missed chapters, and parts, But still are trying to carry the load. Bits slip through our fingers. I don’t even know what I’ve dropped, Or how to grip onto what she’s given me. Time is cruel- Because it doesn’t give a stable sense of what will happen next. Her moods and thoughts are sporadic, Her plans and ideas, erratic- And there’s no rationalizing in those times. I don’t hear the voices, or the sounds, I don’t hear it when her heart pounds, But, on her face I see she's unsure, I can see the anxiety is totally pure, As she tries to balance on unstable grounds. So, we circle the wagons, And try to slay dragons, And be what she needs us to be. |
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joe P. OGrady On Date: 2010-04-28 08:04:58
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
If I were to guess the literal meaning, perhaps it's about a loved one battling an addiction. Although the rhyme and meter are sporadic and uneven, I am guessing that's intentional, keeping with the "unstable ground" in the poem. Your metaphors are wonderful, particularly the Braille. My favourite lines are "I don’t even know what I’ve dropped, Or how to grip onto what she’s given me." It encapsulates the feeling of living with someone whose life is fractured.
It feels in some ways your poem is lyrics to a song. A very moving piece. Well done!