Tomorrow is there,

lurking in the darkest hours of today,

waiting with its claws and its thorns that tear the flesh

and etch fatigue into every joint.

The bright dreams of once

hang like framed pictures high on a bleak wall,

not quite out of the reach of vandals.

Spray-painted worries splatter the colours with black,

and attercops spin their sticky webs

that catch not flies but silver fishes,

flick-flitting through the calm waters of what might have been.

Might yet be, who knows?

Who can see through the murky veil?

Between then and now there is no more night,

no gentle buffer zone,

just a choppy sea full of whirlpools,

the harsh cry of gulls,

and the same words, chitter-chattering round and round.

Peace and silence sail beyond the reach of mortal hand

and the sails are black.

Somewhere, far away, a sparrow chirrups.

I toss a handful of crumbs to clear the rags from the air

that fills with soft feathers and beating hearts,

and I remember the golden cube of stone,

old and sturdy, set in clay and lush meadow,

the well of quiet, that waits at the end of the night.




Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

7 thoughts on “Tomorrow”

  1. The best compliment someone can ever pay someone aside ‘you make me want to write’ is to say you do not make me want to ever write again because you got it so right I cannot ever do as well as that! I am not competitive but that’s how I feel reading this, that you can’t do better than this, and it evokes these really powerful emotions in me, and I cannot write anything as good as this and no it’s not a competition but if it were and I were the judge I’d be giving you every piece of gold I could find. Exquisite.

    1. I’m pleased it strikes a chord, but then again I’m not, since it’s a poem written from the depths of the umpteenth migraine of the last ten days. It’s too cold for me too, brings on all the other bobos and dark thoughts. I’m so tired of feeling like this. It hijacks my thoughts and sends them down a dark siding. The forecast is for the temperature to go up tomorrow. I’m crossing all fingers.

      1. ah the Migraine Chronicles striketh again. Alas I would never wish that fate on you, least of all ten days in duration that’s hellish. If only we could figure what to do? Of course you are tired of feeling that way, anyone would be, you bear up incredibly well under the circumstances and the migraines produce gorgeous work BUT I’d switch that for ten days of pain free for you my friend it is wrong. I have my fingers equally crossed.

      2. At least you don’t live where I do, even people not prone to migraines get them. Turn off the computer, put an ice pack on or have a hot bath and pat yourself on the back for being simultaneously clever and brilliant whilst in pain – few can pull that off my friend. I wish you healing.

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