Wednesday, June 5, 2024

It Felt Like the Middle of the World

Sometimes, drifting along
Through ordinary days
When your life’s a wreck

And the wide world’s a wreck,
But the neighborhood’s fine,
Functioning, going on,

You think of how people
In local disasters,
Say, the storm, quake, or bomb,

Say it felt like the end
Of the world. What would be
The inside-out of that?

The world, at least your world,
Really ending, except
It feels like these plain days

Will go on forever,
Are immortal, no end
To the ordinary.

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