Like poets of old
I will write in dialog of what I have experienced
On a similar yet different parallel
Here is a story for friendly poetic eyes
A snap shot of my reality...
If words could sting and pierce
The beating of our understanding
Where you feel running against your chest
And the arms you waited for
I will walk with my face towards the sun
Watching the sky turn hues
That only a lone star will know
Though the night may be as frigid
Your darkest days triggered
I won't forget the feeling of home
As I keep my face to the sun
Followers will try to slide
Beneath the surface of what I keep
Still hidden and burried deep
Poking and proding for a place
To enter in
I will close doors that should be shut
While keeping a door open
Appearing closed
Secrets hidden in the pinions of a great God
I will look to the sea
Truths hidden and corked
Kept safe and without harm
Despite what waves may apear
I am placid and calm
Though alone
Amidst kindred souls knowing the same
Breath aimed outward
While another may write Steinbeck conversations
So I too will agree in this dialogue
In the transparency
Too deep and uncomfortable
For the common to stride
Though this is a common woman's work...
No comments:
Post a Comment