Holes in my Socks
I’ve tried meditation
and human design.
I’ve looked to astrology
and ancient designs.
I’ve shouted to ancient gods
and whispered prayers in cemeteries.
I’ve been at the bottom
of a prescription bottle,
but I can’t get out of my head.
So I picked up a pen
and started to write.
Feeling better,
I went for a walk.
I talked to the trees,
the birds,
and the rocks.
When I returned,
there were holes in my socks.
Who knew
that’s where I’d find god.
4 thoughts on "Holes in my Socks"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
I too find my solace in pen and walking. I love the simple raw beauty and truth of this poem.
This is so nicely done!
There were holes in your socks – you’d been somewhere!
Great title. Love the searching and what helped “picked up a pen/and started to write.”
Yes!