Back in October, 2014, several things happened that “rocked” my world, and I struggled with depression. It was all I could do to get up and go to work, make it through the day and do it again the next. Sometime during the following months, the image of being a ball on a pool table came to my mind. I felt like I kept getting hit from out of nowhere and I’d be sent in directions that were not of my choosing. I’ve been wanting to draft a poem to express some of this. . .here’s a VERY ROUGH draft that hopefully, I can revise and improve. Suggestions welcome!
If my life
Is like a billiards game–
the balls racked,
connected in a perfect triangle–
Then possibility is high and order is established.
When the break comes,
And the cue ball comes from anywhere
Sending me in unanticipated directions,
Then, do I stay on the table
To take the hits again and again,
Or hope to find the