Grief

why should i waste my life on so much grief?
i do not deserve this.
why should i, a man in his fifties, waste my time
on things that i can no longer change?
i am unreasonable on this.

why should i go back to places whose paths
deny my presence?
i am crazy on this.

i go where my feet take me where my imagination
like wind to the kite blows me.

if i have scissors now, i will show you
how i will cut the string that you are holding now.

set me free, my Lord, set me free
i have been yours for a long time now.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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