Disquiet

What do you do
With these moments —
Instants and hours
Days and weeks — year after year —
Of this precious life

Sitting or walking
Busy or idle
Quarrelling or despairing

Driving for hours
To arrive at some place —
Once there, wishing
You had never left
Then waiting for days
To return

Counting and watching
The hours —
Dragging and pulling
Words out of the deep dark abyss
To see if their shape
Captures the size of your heart
Fills the expanse of your soul