Poem: The Next Left Turn

Overwhelmed by sadness, then over it with the new day . . . but still . . .

The Next Left Turn Sometimes I’m rocked by sadness But it passes, undefined, still creeping around the edges If it were a street, I’d turn and walk another  Times that find me then, move like so much smoke and I need to grab a handful, make it mine, name and hold it Smoke is hard to grasp Sometimes I am too It’s gone by morning and I almost grieve the loss The part of me that hurts, needing to be held a bit Wants the time to feel the pain, reporting it as mine Sadness needs that deference and I am always unprepared Eager for the thing to go away and when it’s gone I’m lost, to wander peaceful boulevards Until the next left turn at sadness

This poem is included in Jim Freeman's poetry collection THE SMELL OF TWEED AND TOBACCO available here in print or as an e-Book in your favorite formats.