[ 2018 – Summer used to be different ]

While we spend all this time
hating each other,
we are missing the point.

It’s like siblings, cousins, or neighbors
yelling at each other over the garden fence
while the house is burning.

     Yelling louder and louder
     to hear their own voices
     over the crackling of the flames.
     Putting on sunglasses
     to protect their eyes
     from the brightness of the fire.
     Turning on the garden hose
     to cool off their feet.

And when they start coughing from the smoke,
they find a new reason to blame each other
for their discomfort.

Yelling and coughing, coughing, coughing and yelling,
not realizing that there is no going back to good old times,
home is gone.

18 Feb This entry was published on February 18, 2022 at 4:44 pm. It’s filed under A poem a day..., ENGLISH ENTRIES, Summer used to be different, Was ich höre, Was ich sehe and tagged anger, fire, mindfulness. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.