Are you weary? These days, I wake up tired, and feel weariness in the atmosphere. Sometimes I forget about how tired I am in the laughter of friends, but it comes back, and I want to sleep. I'm tired. I often curl up like my cat, and sleep. I'm retired, so have the time.
I think of all the letter writing and postcard announcements and events and rallies I used to be so enthusiastic about, and I want to feel that again. No giving up, depression is not allowed.
Today let's address weariness of any kind in a new poem.
Sample poems:
Tired by Langston Hughes
I am so tired of waiting,
Aren't you,
For the world to become good
And beautiful and kind?
Let us take a knife
And cut the world in two-
And see what worms are eating
At the rind.
The poet dreams of the mountain
by Mary Oliver
Sometimes I grow weary of the days, with all their fits and starts.
I want to climb some old gray mountains, slowly, taking
The rest of my lifetime to do it, resting often, sleeping
Under the pines or, above them, on the unclothed rocks.
I want to see how many stars are still in the sky
That we have smothered for years now, a century at least.
I want to look back at everything, forgiving it all,
And peaceful, knowing the last thing there is to know.
All that urgency! Not what the earth is about!
How silent the trees, their poetry being of themselves only.
I want to take slow steps, and think appropriate thoughts.
In ten thousand years, maybe, a piece of the mountain will fall.
O little feet, that such long years
Must wander on through doubts and fears,
Must ache and bleed beneath your load!
I, nearer to the way-side inn
Where toil shall cease and rest begin,
Am weary, thinking of your road.
O little hands, that, weak or strong,
Have still to serve or rule so long,
Have still so long to give or ask!
I, who so much with book and pen
Have toiled among my fellow-men,
Am weary, thinking of your task.
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