Darkness looms about the house,
enters the old man’s dreams,
makes him heavy —
He won’t get up.
My love is far away,
my friends move in their own orbits,
the music pipes on bravely
but I’m lost
This is a first-world problem —
my house is warm and dry
and safe
and well-supplied.
The only thing I lack today
is feeling useful —
the sense of purpose and essential role
that serves community,
helps make it whole . . .
I will fight for this
each day I have to —
to feed some greater need
would fill my soul.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 27, 2013