Purgatory

Written Feb 2, 1978                       To Emily Dickinson

I have lost touch with reality.
I no longer taste, smell or feel.
My imagination has ceased.
My brain ground to a halt.

All of yesterday I lay burning.
Darkness swirled in patterns unknown.
Outside, the snow kept falling.
Inside, the storms have barely ceased.

I have left the mountain top
Found no refuge in the valley,
Wandered on the pebbled beaches,
Collapsed beneath the cedars shade.

Tomorrow will find me on some roadway.
As strange, no doubt, as this I tread.
I have left all I've ever known
For a Love I've yet to win.