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This looks familiar, this feels familiar.

Familiarity and repetition are the bane of a depressive.

Change registers

Like your fingertips swirling in the dull rank water,

But when there’s no change

But the slow shifting of time

[when yesterday turns to today]

That’s just the gradual meandering drag of the river

Pulling us along

As if a rotten carcass catching on the reeds.

The water might be cold or warmer

But its path remains constant,

It will find the sea.

Children come to prod it with their sticks as it passes

Close to the bank,

And river-men may stare forlornly in its wake

Wondering how it came to be

There in the river,

But dare not think too hard about where it’s headed

For they know that their own sad course is decided,

There in the river.

That is the one truth that binds their minds

But for a moment

To the floating corpse,

And as it turns upwards in the water

They catch their own reflection in its dulled eyes.

They stop their talking but for a moment,

Filled with morbid thoughts

They are frozen

Until the dreaded body moves on.

 

copyright 2011

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