In Search Of... (1-12-08) Poem by Bobbie Jean Wright

I trace the ring
of my old blue cup
with my cold fingertips.
The coffee, too, is cold
and nearly as lifeless.
I think back,
trying to figure
when my numbness began...
trying to remember
how to feel.
I don't know
who I am anymore
I seem to exist solely
for my purposes in life.
It's so easy to be a wife
I've done that for so long
and being a mother
is second nature.
Life is just going
through the motions
but I search for a spark.
There must be one left,
a tiny ember,
sparkling in the ash
of the fiery girl
I used to be.
What happened to me?