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.
We have Saturdays
So although it’s not yet June
We have sweet, ripe time
The way that you Love
You look familiar to me
The Source of your Love
Birds in the rain
I overheard this morning
One, an albino-breasted Robin lady
The other, the always-humble female Cardinal
A Noticer, that Robin was, and piped right up to ask
“Are you sick, Miss Olive?”
“Heartsick,” Olive sang sadly
Belying her humility, but with head still hung low
“I’ll always believe I was the better bird.”
A guy
A god
A love
An almost is
All live somewhere in the ether
May it take all day
And all of this life ahead
I stay here for you
Itching, constant itching…and seltzer in my veins.
Given to despair and doom…giving back all gains.
This is how I feel from you…my inglorious lot.
None fiction be more dark than this…none epic, evil plot.
Are you here to parade in my past
Marching, lock, stock and barrel
With all the should’ve-been soldiers
Never healed
Never having entrusted their hand
Am I here to remain unredeemed
Writhing, uncertainty everywhere
With all the versions of me
Never arrived
Never knowing anything but alone
All I learned Today
Blood’s thicker than Truth
I unsettle You
If my thumb’s broken, it was not for Naught
Kids will find their Fun
Joy lives ‘longside Pain
Victims don’t live Here
What if when I die
The mystery of your soul
Is unsolved by mine
LisaRosier.com 