On a Wet and Miserable Day


Posted on December 13th, by Chris Morgan in Poetry. No Comments

I remember writing this, I was at a real low point in Vancouver. I don’t think I had ever felt so completely lonely and thoroughly unhappy before in my life. One day I will write a happy poem!

Oh, how I long to be happy

But my soul is cursed with the grief of a thousand generations

And how I’ve tried to find fulfillment in the conscious days of rain and freedom

From all the strife and self-contradiction of my work

Alas, so short lived are those days off

I spend five days in total expectation of something grand to come in those days off

I’ll do this, I’ll do that, I’ll do the other

But I wake up late. Too late

It’s almost darkness I wake up to in these early winter days

And find myself alone, gazing on this sad apartment

Knowing that I’m far from the people I know and love

And I cannot find the will inside me to get to the tasks that only hours before

I would have gladly performed

 

So I amble aimlessly down a foreign and unknown street

I pause for a while in a second-hand bookshop

I see an atlas of the place I’ve left behind

I read of the places I’ve been to and will go to again

Only to leave the sanctity of the shop

And with a half or maybe quarter sense of purpose

I make my lonely way along the cold wet concrete streets to the only bar I know

 

And here I sit, many beers later

And here I write these words

Not in despair, but close to their

I’m rich, I’m lucky

But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.

 





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