Impasse

The air, heavy from our unspoken thoughts,
Is hardly fuel for the candle that burns.
We watch the fly climbing the window glass,
Unable to escape unless it turns.

We both feel the burden of our impasse.
You take the swatter; I let the fly out.
The fresh air wipes the wrinkles from my mind.
I want to stay outside in rain, and shout.

Today has no name, the times fall behind.
Now the candle is dead and gone is the rain
We turn into the fly that can’t get out
Unless we move away from our own pain.

Comments on: "Impasse" (17)

  1. The mood you create with this lovely poem speaks volumes Ina. Beautifully expressed but sad. L&H xxx ❤️

  2. Great job on the rhyme, and the fly — oh, such a pesky metaphor that you have managed to make eloquent.

    • Thank you. I did think of the fly as in man’s trousers but the poem would not let me make a joke.

  3. Moving. Watch comedy. There’s sadness pouring out of this poem and I don’t like to think of you being gripped by too much of that stuff

  4. This is such an incredibly beautiful poem.

  5. Thoughtful.

  6. poignant, thought provoking, beautiful…D

  7. Beautifully taut elegiac tension

  8. The air, heavy from our unspoken thoughts,

    like the imagery here

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