Why Are We Here?

there is this sickness that comes
and you have no power to block it
it is like a monkey that comes at your
temple door and you have no way of driving it
you leave leaving everything important to that monkey
spreading banana peelings on the alter of your sacred nook
you watch at a distance where the monkey plays monkey upon itself
you are sleepy, you fall into a deep slumber
the monkey comes inside that dream and you are helpless
without your hands and feet
you cough, you struggle to vomit
there is no cure for this sickness
nothing comes out
and you are feeling toxic

that is why we are here.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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