Life Unlived

Life Unlived

  

I sit behind these eyes of glass

And watch my life pass by

In disconnect from those I see

Perched on this chair, I spy

 

It's stark and bare within these walls

With not a speck of dust

I occupy this space alone

No need to offer trust

 

I'm always hyper-vigilant

Observing life at large

Locked away inside myself

Not willing yet to charge

 

Into the lives I oversee

From this hidden place

Free of the entanglements

I've chosen not to face

 

But there's a knocking, rapping, tapping

At an inner door

Insinuating influence

That seeks to breach my core

 

It asks me feel, to risk the hurt

Exposure often brings

To lift my head above the wall

In spite of arrow stings

 

It whispers that I've much to give

That it's my obligation

To offer back what I've amassed

Through my own observation

 

To plumb the depth of what I feel

And put it on the line

Not hide inside my ramparts

So hardy in design

 

The rut is just to stay right here

Safe within these walls

Strapped into this straight-backed chair

Not chancing any falls

 

But without risk, there's no reward

No chance to win the prize

So I will venture out, I guess

Beyond these watching eyes

 

 

Richard Higley

 

 

Richard Higley, Lafayette Indiana. I came to poetry later in life. at age 59. Midwest blue collar poet. I'm currently 66, married 44 years, Father of 7, grandfather to a slowly spreading pool of grands. I have published on collection of poems titled The Wounded Flower. I have more than 500 pieces that touch a wide range of subjects. My alter ego is a wandering storyteller I am widely read but with little literary scholarship.