I am weary of this counterwind life, grown tired of soliloquies spoken to unlistening ears. I loathe the abstract inattention of the asbestos cities, the morning papers, sprawling bedspreads of flapping misery that pound out the world’s commotion. I detest the chatter of the hurrying masses, their frantic pace that beats like some accusing conscience. Green streetcars cry out on every curve and move like rasping monsters through the swarming city, the nervous grey crowds, the sweating slums.
I long for quiet. Perhaps the swaying pendulum, it’s rising, falling, is all that could soothe my tired nights. I need the soft-voice people who bring tenderness, the royal pall of peace. For what is this modern life? Dull and empty dinners of friendships bought and drawn aside by the sad and shocking power of position and greed. I want friends who will love me without price lists, those who are uninsured but free.
I will drift on some salt-wet sea free saying my own yes to life; no noise, no chains wrapping myself in moss folded around the safe shoulders of the blossoming days.
Patricia Kelly Gangas from her 3rd book of poetry, These Places of Light