Early from work
To tell you how much you meant to me
And you could not believe my words
Your words, I said
Meant so much to me that I gave my life
To help them along
Surprising, and how!
To adore the very storm
who will destroy you.
Each of us
(asserted, channeling Dr. Angelou’s assertiveness)
Is defined not by the dictionary-eyes of casual glancers
Nor by the information-containing codewords from our fathers
Fallen or otherwise
Each of us
Is defined by the footstep-shaped letters we leave for others
And by the blessed word riding, wafting, if you will, on our very next breath
Intended or otherwise
Uncertainty, my enemy -it roams inside my ribs.
I wonder with deep-seated fear, just how will I do this?
Though morning maketh all things new, by eve’ I dance decrepit
It seems the voice inside my head desires me unaccepted
How you fought for me
Warrior, Peacemaker, You
With bloodied knuckles
Why you’re the poem,
and oh, how you’d believe it
if I kissed you right.
What is the name of that road? The spirit and purpose of it? The one we approach, day in and day out, without hesitation?
Familiar with the smell of it, the distractions, attractions and tourist traps along the way, but unsure, in the dark, where to turn when it’s time, finally time, for a rest stop.
Trust, we must, the touch. The feel of our wheels we were gifted, from The Road of all roads, The Mother.