Thoughts thru the Maze – who is the monster at the center of the labyrinth?

Is it me? Is it you? My thoughts run frantically after each other, twisting in confusion. I search for the path to the center. Was there a minotaur, or simply a mirror? When does a hospice worker get to say, “nope, not you”? Do you get to say bugger off to your calling? When seeking advice from the Ancestors, why do they snort-laugh and shrug?

Answers in order: Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Whenever. Sure. Because they can.

If I can find a way to decipher my feelings around the situation it will all become clear, yes? Does a soul-cleanser get to say, “Not my job. I’m not the only Worker here”? Are there guns involved, and if so, what caliber? Will regret be involved? Does that change anything?

Answers: Same as the first set, choose as appropriate.

Decisions that shift hourly are exhausting. Life is exhausting. Death is exhausting. Sleep will be a temporary relief.

Brigid (silent) Poetry Slam, year 12


like the last breath of consciousness
before death,
before birth,
like stone in the wooden bucket
dips for renewal,
dips for healing
in Brigid’s well.

~Pamela V Jones ©2017

This is my 8th year contributing to the Silent Poetry Festival  which has been going on since 2006, and has become a wonderful, international event, with people posting poems in honor of Brigid on their blogs, Facebook, Twitters, Tumblrs, and other such devices.

Details here.