For Want Of Better Words (Poetry)

This is, for want of better words, the process
the way we haul the heavy day along
routine is all we have to prop the structure
for motivation wavers — faith’s not strong

We go from day to day — tick off our duties
the necessary chores we have to do
one by one to keep our small world turning
and scrape the energy to see it through

Since when did days begin with trepidation? —
that sense of dread which seeps in with the light
to spread its stain and suffocate the notion
a change of luck could put the balance right

We cling on to a shipwrecked life while others
believe we must be coping with the strain
we don’t discuss those storms that drag us under
we drown in silence time and time again

We’re treading water dingy with pollution
the tide returns old flotsam wave on wave
the damage done — there is no fair solution
so much is lost so little left to save