At the end of the day

When long days
full of careful consideration
and analysis
stretch slowly
into nights of empty thoughts,
when all that work,
all that thinking,
leaves me dried up,
shrivelled like the leaves
frittering about the yard,
I read
and I look to the sky,
I blank-stare into the distance
I pace,
I let my thoughts roam
away from me,
I watch my family;
I look for inspiration.

I don’t always find it
but still I feel pride,
pride in the work I have done,
in the thinking,
the careful reading,
the deep, soul-searching writing
I have done,
I feel pride
that I have given my work my all.
I can look my colleagues in the eye
and know that I, too,
have shown up,
have delivered,
have stretched myself to the limit,
spread my wings, solo,
and flown;
I’ve put everything I had
into my day.

If I go home, then,
with nothing left to give,
no further creations to mold into being,
so be it.
I have done my thinking,
my creating,
I have worked my brain.
I may smile weakly at times
and my family may wonder if I mean it,
but I am happy to be with them,
they recharge me for tomorrow.
I do mean it.

But never mind tomorrow.
Right now, I rest.

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2 thoughts on “At the end of the day

  1. Yes yes yes!
    “and I look to the sky,
    I blank-stare into the distance
    I pace,
    I let my thoughts roam”
    You’ve perfectly captured that push-pull between frustration and contentment.

    • You know, this was one of those things that just came spilling out, first as stream of consciousness blather, then I slowly reworked it into a poem. I was worried it was a bit raw, but I also wanted it that way. And by the way, “blank-stare” was probably inspired by all those hyphenated words of yours 🙂

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