Tired

You are tired,
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.

Come with me, then,
And we’ll leave it far and far away—
(Only you and I, understand!)

You have played,
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of,
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break, and—
Just tired.
So am I.

But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,
And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—
Open to me!
For I will show you the places Nobody knows,
And, if you like,
The perfect places of Sleep.

Ah, come with me!
I’ll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,
That floats forever and a day;
I’ll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,
Until I find the Only Flower,
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea.

e.e. cummings


The above poem pretty much describes how I’ve been feeling for the last month-ish. I am tired. Not in just a “oh man I need some sleep” tired – everything about me is tired. My body, my mind, my heart, my spirit – it needs rest. I’ve had a lot going in my world. Financially, emotionally, mentally, physically….I’m spent. I’m stressed, I’ve been hurt, I’ve been taken for granted, I’ve been used, I’ve been treated like crap, I’ve had my trust and faith thrown in the dirt and it has reached the pinnacle where I’m not sure I could handle anything else. I’ve been in a really dark and lonely hole but I try to poke my head above ground level and breathe in some fresh air, take in some sunlight, feel better. Despite all of my troubles and hurt and stress…I still believe. I still want to have hope that problems can be solved, broken things can be fixed….that love and faith and belief and hope can work. I can’t let myself lose that…if I don’t have hope and faith, I really won’t have anything. Maybe I’m weak for believing in that, but I have to believe…

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “Tired

  1. This is really good. I read your reasoning behind it and while mine is not exactly the same, I really feel like I can identify with this poem. Especially in terms of getting someone to come with me, even though the toys they were fondest of are broken.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s