Ok, Change gods, have your holy way
For, with me or without me, you’ll carry on today
I choose, with me, my goal remains to grow
Now move upon your mandate, I’ll close my eyes and go
As you adjust the channel, I’ll hold on, right or wrong
Spin me up a new song, I’ll learn to sing along
A shapeshifter no
Change for their crazed, changing minds
I can not, will not
Rest your weary mind
My love
Rest your stricken heart
Permit time
Permit soonness
Permit fondness promised
When seasons change, as they will
When notes become no more
Permit the absence, too
Once a mountain there was
And a woman most worthy
As any woman is
Taking aim, then falling away
With purposeful looking
Set sight on a different mountain
On being a different woman
And she is allowed
As any woman is
Who does the wind think it is?
Provoking
Dog barkings
Promoting
Heart havings
When will change not want its way?
Down playing
Naysaying
Up lifting
Day claiming
Yesterday felt like that strange, suburban taupe that fleeing people paint their houses.
As if to differentiate they made it out from the color, as if that is the goal.
The brass-ring door knocker the badge displayed, front and luke-warm center.
So as to say only some are welcome to come a-knocking.
Dare to spend the sweat to tear down the white-washed fences, to bring in the yellow.
To draw the eye from the curb to the threshold, to inside where the warmth is golden-brown.
When should we gather, finally gather, at a light-lit table and see the truth is black and white?
Today feels like that.
Today,
Be they multicolored
Or left white,
I want to see them
Not silent.
I want to hear their frayed edges
Delicate
Tho’ woven-well together
And moving on the winds.
Rebel
It’s 50 or so
But there you go
Bare-knuckled
Change-bound
Into it all
Southern sun
Mock the freeze
Write of it
Photograph it often
For when its sharp refreshment fades away
Your comfort from the warm, high ground
Your concern kept at bay
Will taste of only salt
And tears
And grey