Am I well, am I not well,
is the day light or
is it dark - are those
clouds I see out there or
veils before my eyes -
am I thinking, or am I
not, lost in a
maze of threads and alleyways
with no clear path out?

Are these questions in the day
real? or am I merely
reeling with the weight of
my own years, drowning
in the memory of
my own tears, lost
in the black wood of
my own experience - width

throws out more
problems than it solves,
and you cannot climb
into a box
you no longer fit.

Is it sunny, is it
cold, do I need a
coat and scarf, am I
well today or
am I ill or
can I tell the
difference now?  The seconds tick

and carry me
despite divergence, convergence,
the uncertain weathers
of the mind.
The Teetering Woman
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