Nowhere

The stairs are worn on alternating sides,
Left, right, left, right,
As if in drudgery they’ve been tread,
And yet they lead to nowhere.
I walk them daily 
And with each ascent 
The earthen urn perched atop my head
With the fragments of my life in it
Gets heavier to bear

I don’t carry it well, 
Not like those African women 
Smiling out from the pages
Of National Geographic 
Who carry their burden hands-free
With a baby on their back

I’m coming apart at the seams
And though I push the stuffing back in
And stitch it back up
Sometimes you can still see little tufts 
Sticking out through the threads —
And for that I pay.

But the water is in the urn,
No longer in my eyes,
And I carry it around this sandbox
Enough to have crossed the Sahara
And back again,
With the drumming in my head —
And voices begin to sound 
Like Charlie Brown’s teacher.

And the movie never ends
It goes on and on and on and on
Like the needle’s stuck playing that song
Before it gets to the part
That tells me not to stop believing,
And time keeps wasting 
While I keep climbing these stairs
To nowhere


 

february 2011