Poetry

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I'm tired.

But it's a
good tired.

Not a multi-tasking,
soccer mom,
feminine mystique,
running around,
purposeless
tired.

It's not a
watching the clock;
waiting for the weekend,
weary
tired.

It's not even an
Elijah running from Jesabel,
after the big showdown
tired.

It's a "It's 4:00 and
I can't believe I forgot
to take a break!" tired.

Like an artist feels
after finishing a painting
that is brushed by love
tired.

Like a counselor
who has spent hours with
a patient and finally has
a vulnerable break through
tired.

Like a graphic designer
who finally tweeked the
brochure enough to run a
test print
tired.

Like an accountant
whose found that one mistake
that created the imbalance
tired.

Like a mom
who watches her child play
and sees a little actress
in the rough
inspired
tired.

It's just
I feel I've made
a difference
kind of
tired.

My mind spent,
body exhausted,
pouring out my soul,
kind of tire.

I'm tired.

H. Stone (C) 2005

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