My Troubled Mind

Another quiet Sunday afternoon Leaves of trees Falling in and out of space, Slowly covering the earth As the evening stood awake. Maybe someday the sky shall fall In love with silence and the ’60s, And questions of faith haunted us all, Slowly drowning in the whiskey sun. As temporary relief is found, But the permanent… A gun. Oh, hush my troubled mind, I need some peace and quiet tonight. I need a pause, a drink, a perfect rhyme To cast a spell to tame this beast inside. Because I’m not ready, I’m not giving in— Ten years back, maybe, But not now. Oh, hush my heavy heart, I need some Andrew Wyeth tonight. I need a brush, a stroke, a perfect line To break the spell, to lift the curse on my life. Because I’m now ready, I’m not giving in— Ten years back, maybe, But not now. Now I have things to do, Places to go, and people to see. Now I have memories, Even though it’s just me—my imagination. I no longer need those demons for company. I’m free… (My troubled mind says) “You with your heavy load, You with your troubled soul, Go in deep, Stretch out wide. Dig and dig Till you find a crack— A light You can grasp, You can see… You’ll be fine.”