Disconnected

This entry will make slightly more sense if you've seen this video: 

I love this poem beyond words. This is like "Sleep Paralysis" before I knew "Sleep Paralysis." I know one of his other poems, "When I Met Her," word-for-word by heart, and I'm working on this one. This poem can lift my spirits and calm me down from a panic attack if I catch it quick enough. But tonight, even this isn't doing anything. 

I do not feel connected. Have you ever looked at a creek or a stream and seen a rock in the middle? Not just like a pebble, but one that sticks out through the water. The water bangs against it and moves around it. It's inconvenienced by it, and probably irritated with it, but the rock just sits there taking hit after hit. Once the water's moved around the rock, it reconnects as soon as possible to grumble and snicker while the rock sits there, dumb, embedded into the soil and unable to move. Every now and then if the water hits it hard enough the rock will be freed from the soil and dragged along by the water. It usually doesn't last too long before it hits another divet in the river bed and is trapped once again. The water becomes grateful. It's someone else's problem now. 

That's how I feel tonight. 

(All right, so maybe the video didn't help this make sense. Maybe it's just that this poem's been on my mind lately and I wanted to tie it in to a blog post. So sue me.)