In the Best of Her Blues

We can be part of the solution.

 

 

 

 

 

Dressed in the best of her blues

She falls between nothing and nothing more

As she walks the walkway of the world in despair

Conversations to herself are never lucid

A ribbon of sorrow hangs haphazardly about the locks of her hair

She squints from the sun as her mascara runs down to her once rosy cheeks

We can no longer provide the services she seeks

Providing instead a rosary of hemlock that she thumbs, bead by bead

 

In the best of her blues

She dons a heart that can no longer break

Memories of her life become too much to bare

She screams in the subways and begs for money to self-medicate

Her signs of help lose their focus as she begins to hallucinate

The grocery cart that holds her imaginary cat

Rolls down Market Street

To the Embarcadero

All the way to the Ferry Building

To the big clock tower that reminds us what time it is.

But we still don’t know

We like to imagine that she brought this upon herself

As we lose our focus and we begin to hallucinate

But, we have no excuse

 

In the best of her blues

She can barely move from her mental prison she finds herself in

Often catatonic / paused / somehow on delay

In her mind she is running a race that she cannot lose or win

It’s a race she has never entered

Stumbling about in her azure haze

As some run to shut their doors 

Often afraid to move / paused / somehow on delay

We, who are alert and oriented times four

Frozen by paranoia, we run and shut the door

But we have no excuse

In our best, we are compassionate

As we watch her living in the best of her blues.