I do not hold you enough,
except when the night comes rumbling in,
wetting and chilling the air before it.

I do not hold you enough,
except in my dreams
when they bend down all around me
and dredge the day more darkly.

I do not hold you enough,
except when I cannot wake to the dawn
and stay instead, frightened and fighting myself,
holding on to the warm smoke you’ve become,
like I’m some shaman begging his gods for healing.

I just do not hold you enough.


Thank you for reading Enough. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed it and I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.


© 2013 by John Etheridge; all rights reserved. This poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License. This applies to all original work found on this site, unless noted otherwise. The attribution claimed under the license is: © 2013 by John Etheridge, https://bookofpain.wordpress.com.


Filed under Poetry

6 responses to “Enough

  1. John I know I saw this before but this is excellent.>KB

    • KB, thank you so much. That means a lot, as does your excellent editorial skills when I write like my poetic license deserves revoking.

  2. So glad I didn’t miss this one… holding on to the warm smoke is exactly – no, precisely – right. Beautiful.

    • Thank you! I thought that this was a poem that you would feel resonate. It’s one of those rare ones that came together quickly. Those are very rare for me.

      • I love it when that happens, you just know the words are meant to be together and the poem was meant to be. All is right with the world and you can then get back to the torturous ones that fight with you like a stubborn mule! It’s all about balance! But yes, resonate it did.

      • “Stubborn mules”? I love it! Alas I seem to have a whole herd of them to contend with, with very few fleet foals to brighten the pace. Oh well, I never did think that winning any derbys was in my future!