Semi-Daily Scribbles

It’s in the patterns that I get lost

Take too many steps in the right direction

And familiar lines become untraceable

Safety provides a sanctuary

That suffocates the questioning heart

The bending of my will

Shifts the patterns into borrowed images

Sprawled upon a field of white

Pathways and corridors fill the space

Between my next breath and your stifled cry

It’s in the patterns that you’ll find me

Clinging to the repetition that soothes and lulls

And makes dull the edge that once silenced all fear