Paying for Air

Something heavy on my heart today.



I’m not sure if it’s the murder,


Or something dead in me.


This morning, it felt like the world was a dark, dry place.


Barren. No joy. No life.






But I looked around and saw life everywhere.


The cat sitting on my bed pillow.


The sound of my son’s feet hitting the floor


After I hollered, “Mornin’ kids. Time to get up.”


With a forced effort at sounding cheerful.






As I walked down to put my clothes in the drier,


To toss away the wrinkles,


I wished I could just climb in the drier too,


And maybe toss away whatever


Seemed to have a grip on my spirit.






It’s as if something, or someone, was pulling me down


Towards the ground,


Wanting to watch me fall.


I kept moving,


Walking past objects that were


Looking like a nice place to rest.


My bed. My favorite blue chair,


Even the hard piano stool


Looked comfortable.






On the garage, the icy air seemed to bounce


Off my skin as I piled a few split logs


Into my arms.






I tossed a couple of pieces of fatlighter


Onto the coals, watching the flames


Reach up towards the new wood.


I watched the burning


And time seemed frozen.






I chose a different route to work


After filling up my gas tank.


Instead of hopping on the interstate


I wound through the low hills,


Hoping that I could unwind


The spool inside of me


That seemed too tight.






But nothing loosened.


It’s still there-


A choking feeling,


Like I have to pay for


The air that I breathe today.