Reentry Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

Awakened from
one's nightmare's grief
solemn solitary soul
twisted inward bound
conscious visions grim,
existence without relief
self realization, cruel facts;
face what must be done.

The seat, sixth taken
humbly as one of tabled eight
upon this moment the truth
spoke, you are alone
against the start,
subconscious dimmed
all life behind you,
a past is finally gone.

A room, this place;
walls white without the pads
its door is opened
to opened doors beyond
sole line of sight
the morning sun behind
who comes or what awaits
this moments bend.

Mind's tightness stiffens,
this thought responds
from thinking's pose await an
echo's call from down the hall
life's mysteries stress
this waiting pinned upon the
backdrop of an individual
whose lot was drawn.

Quiet as murmurs fade, ringing
pressures one mind to drink
of thought, most likely
cause to deeply moan
blurring vision, eye's stare,
what's seen of mind within
that clock of this one life,
as it ticks towards its oblivion.