A Bird A Fish & A Ghost

There are times when I suffer

And thoughts of disappearing submerge me.

I look at the blue of the sky and stretch my hand

to it. But I am no bird.

Had I wings, I would fly far away.

At the times I suffer,

the thoughts of disappearing drown me deep.

And I ask myself. Had I been a fish,

would I have disappeared into the ocean?

And perhaps, if I did,

would my heart grow flowers?

Or would my eyes glow like jewels?

And in the times I suffer,

thoughts of disappearing bury me.

And I contemplate about the ghosts.

Are they as free as they seem?

But I don’t know for I am not a ghost.

Had I been one I would vanish into thin air

where no wind shall know my name.

And I would run away

and I shall never return.

Not as a bird, not as a fish,

and never as a ghost.