Mutterings

I ache in the spirit
and sometimes it feels like hot sun on a hail stone,
and sometimes it feels nothing like that at all.

Sometimes I am small, hidden in the back pocket of someone else's agenda.
Sometimes I surrender my thoughts and lounge graciously in long grass.
Sometimes it is all I can do to keep from screaming so loud it damages your ears,
I try to please but even dray horses wear out.

I ache in the spine
and sometimes it feels like it's plucked so impedingly I might pulverise somewhere internal,
and sometimes it feels it might wiggle up and out of my spout of a throat.

I know I'm tired
but sometimes a girl needs only to mutter,
I know I'm tired
but sometimes a girl needs somewhere to turn.