Wrong Direction Poem by Paul Reed

'And what have I to give my friends in the last resort?
An awkwardness, a shyness, and a scrap,
No thing that's truly me, a bootless waste,
A waste of myself and them, for my life is mine
And theirs presumably theirs, and cannot touch.'

from 'Days I Enjoy' by Vita Sackville-Vest

Not one part of ourselves do we transact

As we flutter, preen and paint that awkward smile

Fleeting flashes of light through heavily wooded forests

Never full sunbeams;

Hidden away in our souls the true meaning of us

Shying away from asking ourselves who we are

As our daily routines submerge us in a fog of duty

And time weakens our life-proof exterior

Borne with such ease in our youth

We relish falsehood and glory in deceit

Even as we point in the wrong direction