26 Apr

Image, music and text by Rick McVicar 

A brain fog follows after a fall

Into a dismal drum of oily depression 

That sticks and clings to my shoulders 

Like a dirty wet T-shirt

Full of gravel and mud 

That clings to my chest with firm adhesive. 

Yet I pull my lips up into a smile 

Trying to chase away an ill omen, 

Pondering forces of nature beyond my control.

Surprisingly, sometimes the forced smile works 

To push up grass through slabs of concrete.

Sometimes hope comes from people I meet 

Other times it comes from a strong belief

In a power that creates the universe

And with it possibilities for healing and peace. 


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