Dressing Elephants

Photo by Justine Camacho on Unsplash

It’s that time again
time to make the beds

even the words
don’t make sense.

The feet hold firm
they sense

my dread
it’s like dressing

elephants
standing heavy

and insolent
as I grapple

apologetically
trying to take off

great billowing
garments from

unyielding forms
unruly as moods

as cloud cover
in a storm.

I imagine I am
putting on armour

over the backs
of Khan’s stolen herd

swaddling majestic heads
of warriors, the knowing

temples
of a matriarch against

the blundering cracks
of war

so she will not learn
to forget her dead.

On bad days
I smooth bright

linen across
immovable hides

wrapping them tight
in kind shrouds

from the clash
of cymbals

and drums
the children’s cries

and the unforgiving
sun

to ease
our carnival ride.

©️Anna Murzyn 10th March

For ASJ who imagined our first fantasies

This is a poem of encouragement for facing the dull, gruelling and insurmountable, or just facing another day, when the usual advice on coping is of no help. It is for anyone negotiating with the mean girls, terrorists, toddlers and teenagers of life (literally and metaphorically) when meditating your way to ‘the serenity to accept’ is an absurd impossibility.