Weekends in the Aftermath
As the weekend creeps upon me like a shadow after a storm
It sits with me quietly. Clouded and grey
It clings like dew from the lilies along the stream
And dampens what is to come.
It should be a welcome escape from the rain
It should gift sun-filled moments to cherish
But it speaks only of vague social connections
Its voice hisses shame like a snake
Hiding in the weathered crevice of the silo wall.
The weekend shows me these were never friends
Never true birds of fun to be treasured
They are merely and barely acquaintances
Clouds that drift by in skies already hazy and grey.
The only thing dragging me grudgingly along
Is the anchor of guilt around my feet
Forcing me to step into my obligation
A weight of pity pulling me ever dark and deep.
The weekend whispers harshly in my ringing ears
Urging me along to share my time
Not share, exactly. Give away my time is more true
“Why?” It hisses. “Why do you dread it so?”
Unsettled pity is more than my calloused mind can bear
Muggy judgement lingering in the air
Masked actors reciting unrehearsed lines
Like Off-Off-Broadway performances dying on some distant stage.
Why is it that I avoid their furrowed brows
And turn my back on their hollow smiles?
Perhaps to mask the darkness behind the curtain
When the light of truth comes looking.
The silence in the aftermath cripples me.
The moments and days they avoid at all costs
They never know that I know that they know
Vague words of canned affirmation
Hover in heavy air, while I wallow in breath.
Perhaps a new week’s windbreak will find me
Enough to help ease this shrouded grasp
Releasing the weekend’s dreaded thoughts
To dream grey dreams of chores again.