Poemetry by T.A. Barnhart


i get confused
by the irony
of life:
the days crawl by
and they are so
the same,
day after & after,
endlessly repeating
and yet –
the passing of each
whispers to me
how endless
they are not.
this morning,
like so many others:
wake & drag
myself out &
down to the
kitchen &
on it goes
but it’s not
over &&&
it’s the start
of one less day
i get to live.
it should fire me
to live every moment
with all my energy
all my desire
instead of this reluctance
to even engage.
i fear death
i fear living.
like i said,
confused by it all.
no wonder
even a breath
is so difficult.

©TA Barnhart October 4, 2020