The Question

The Question

A Poem by Bent Dragon (Eric)

Like treacle from a jar --
unhurried my feet are
Earthlike velcro belabouring every step
forcibly I hurry onward

Foot falls sound out
clip-clop, clip-clop
much too quickly -- each an urgent question
each question an accusation 

My body's insurrection 
to my rapid pace without direction.
The questions I flee
call from my foot falls out to me

What is your passion?
What will you do?

Ragged I stop
Inhaling air like the first fruit of spring
Silence -- 
The questions return, slowly, as an itch
Even my skin is rebelling
My inability to answer offending every atom of my body
I scratch--
The relief is short lived.
It comes back an itching red bump.
Throbbing like an accusation
Each itchy pulse demanding to know --
How could I go on, without knowing the answers?

© 2015 Bent Dragon (Eric)

Author's Note

Bent Dragon (Eric)
Any comments would be appreciated

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You seem like an avid thinker. Not many young people are. Valentine

Posted 3 Years Ago

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Added on February 20, 2015
Last Updated on February 20, 2015
Tags: Passion, Purpose, Direction


Bent Dragon (Eric)
Bent Dragon (Eric)

Not Specified, Canada

A younger author who dabbles in a lot of different types of writing but continues to primarily write poetry. more..