Trafficked

Cycles that come in short bursts…
Each time I settle amongst the soft dirt a wind comes
and blows me into unrelenting traffic…
I grapple at tyres
And recoil from screaming horns
“I’m not in your damn way I’m just trying to find room for me”
As the dust turns to rain
there becomes less of me…
Yet still when I find the right size crack
I get squeezed out before I can settle, seed and grow!

My face is heavy with the endless words that awash my head
Ear to ear I am useless repetition
Things will change, changing things, time will change, just got to settle…………….
Have we started yet?
Looking to the forward
Two thousand and zen/ren
Bring in the tiger and the ring masters
What?
They’re here? Were… here?
But I haven’t even found the first page yet…
Could someone please prompt me?
I’ve seemed to have lost my place.

Needs slipped beneath the toppling pile of challenges
My list of ‘things to do’ no longer consider life.
Each time I feel it at my fingertips
the wind sweeps it away.
Back into the screaming traffic
and first coffee fueled glares…

It’s hard to find clarity when the world has you on the move
but gravity prevents me from dropping my bags
and the time master is questioning me directly
If only I coULD HEAR HIM OVER THE TRAFFIC!!!