Making my way back

As if through a tunnel,
I viewed the world.
Eyes deep within me were

disconnected from the outside.

Profound distance kept me hidden
and unreachable.

I felt the distance growing,
saw the darkness
lengthening and deepening
my isolation.

When did it end?
I don't recall the process
of closing the gap.
Yet I traveled

the distance
between my self and the world.
Removed the magnet
pulling me too deep inside,
prolonging my agonizing
aloneness.

It was not solitude.
It was torture.
The rack. Stretching my inner bounds
almost beyond repair.

Resilient spirit
rebounded, recovered, rejoiced and
reconnected
with others and outer self.

Bubbling with ebullient life
this path is become
joy indeed.

Paradox

This poem stemmed from a writing workshop exercise where I received a set of unlikely combinations of nouns and adjectives as the basis for a poem. I'll bet you can find those pairs!

Cloudy carnivores of souls,
saintly demons rise from mist
like unpolished butterflies.
Strange yet expected
like the familiar mermaid
who pops her head from the sea,
tail coated with concrete sequins
pulling her below the foam.

Saintly demons as odd
as a plaid kangaroo
warp my perception
like a wrinkled tractor trailer
hinders traffic on my road home.

Saintly demons have transparent
employment to misguide me.
My cranky bamboo heart yelps
as I bend and flex to absorb
paradox.