Climbing tot the top



To the top. Photographic: DWV

Climbing to the top


Blocks of happenings

slowly descend

and settle upon each other,

building a building

in which I reside,

in which I have resided

since that momentous event

when my umbilical cord was cut

and I had to gasp in raw, burning oxygen

into my tender lungs.


It hasn’t stopped since:

blocks being lowered in a way I don’t understand –

sometimes slowly, haphazardly, sometimes

seemingly carelessly, sometimes seemingly hastily,

carefully, intentionally, threateningly, soothingly.


From day to day

I ascend my spiral staircase,

talking to myself,

talking to other people through the windows.

Usually I can’t make myself understood

very well,

and I seldom understand

what people mean to mean.


Why blocks?

Why not oblongs, or spheres?


Perhaps life needs the strict lines,

the implacable angles of cubes,

the uncompromising flat surfaces

that inexorably fit on top of each other,

never to change.


The blocks keep coming down;

I will not stop climbing

my winding steps,

not until I’ve reached the roof.

About kruger01

Poet, author, translator Grandfather of five. Bonsai grower.
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