Wistful thoughts stirring up
Like steam from a boiling pot
Thinning and dissipating into air
Woeful thoughts rise and rise like
Leavened bread cresting, hardening,
Demanding they be heard at once
My innate sense of self-management with
Tightening and adjustment of mental screws
To deal, fails and wins over, alternately
My outward mien shows great calm
And sublime peace, belying the rising
Panic, bubbles of stress, great unease
My conscience knows that my thoughts.
Intentions and goodwill were all lacking
Somehow, hence my inner SOS signals
The challenge now is to calm this disquiet
Make amends to gain once again the serenity
That can be had, with a little bit of catharsis!
To once again achieve a sense of peace
Within and without, creating soothing oasis
With a mere glance, touch or presence
The world goes whispering to its own, ‘This anguish pierces to the bone;’ And tender friends
go sighing round, ‘What love can ever cure this wound?’ My days go on, my days go on.
– Elizabeth Barrett Browning