How Are You?

You ask me how I am
And then glance past my shoulder,
Already anxious
To continue your errands.

“Fine.” I reply
“Great, great,” you answer,
Already dancing on your toes
Poised to be on your way.
I wonder,
As I often do,
What you would say
If I told you the truth.
“I feel terrible; hopeless
Nothing holds any meaning .
I spend huge chunks of my day
Wishing I were dead.”
“Great, great,”
You would likely reply with disinterest,
So ingrained is your anticipation
Of a polite, meaningless answer.
I watch you scurry away
And I wonder
How you could have missed
The black cloud hanging over my head.

Author: Patti Moore Wilson, wednesdayschild2

I write what I feel. And I rarely know exactly what I feel until I write. I have lived long enough to have known many joys and many sorrows. I have made many mistakes; I have forgiven myself for a few… I have learned that there are lessons in every step of this journey, if we only take the time to pay attention… I hope you will feel free to pick and choose the stories that resonate for you…

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