Let Me

Scribbled thoughts without an end

Searching for a release that eases the pain of inner voices

Written words never said

But know that exist all too well

And I drift

Drift between yesterdays and moments not yet sung

Unsteady plateaus that tilt with each step

I grab hold for fear of falling back

Only to fall forward, at the mercy of my own gravitational pull

And I ask

Where do I land?

Steady ground beneath my feet

Or is this constant falling where I’m suppose lie

Wrapped in a blend of comfort and unease

Knowing the only certainty is my own uncertainty

There has to be more

Let me heal

Let me heal and mend broken words and my uneven sighs

Let me heal

I have to try

My Father’s Voice

Lead me through the maze of tangents, avoiding aftermaths disguised as sunsets

Where balcony views shine truths about empty chimes

And lessons are found through sunlight piercing through broken doors

Collections of anonymous indifference remains at the side of the road

My father’s voice linger in the wind, beckoning

The smell of fields graze my soul, reminding me I’m not far from home

Sanctuary’s Uneven Road

Ashen skies hide sunrise’s thorns, shallow waters fill my lungs

Muted lights through rice paper screen doors, gazing at the truth

Peeled wallpaper hangs off tired walls, waiting to be held then tugged to the floor 

Silent crumpled photos, tangled stories untold, knotted at both ends

Tides of anguish kept at bay, sanctuary’s uneven road, paved with discarded voices

.

Dawn’s arrival, deep breaths, inhaled tattoos beneath the skin

Not tomorrow nor the next, a knock at my door, a reminder someday will come

A collection of darkness, forever follows, filling each footprint, stride for stride

Running, stopping, turning, hiding – impossible to evade

I stop, I turn, I wait – a reunion, an embrace, a farewell until we meet again

Asking for a Sign

Refuge does not imply running into dark tunnels

Swimming in knotted ropes, I can’t go back

To sun sets that fall below horizons’ sharpened edge

Just arm’s length away, I stretch

A touch, drops fall from fingertips, creating shallow frantic puddles

I float, waiting for a sign, hoping someone will hear

Feathered Imprints

Long arms reach out, grasping at air

I am waiting, not knowing for what

Standing in the open, I look down and see my shadow has disappeared 

A sigh escapes, a flock of birds take flight where my breath left off

Fading small dots in the distance, they leave

Feathered imprints fall in their wake

And I’m left here wondering what is next, if anything at all

Waiting for the Gust

A freshly raked pile of autumn leaves

A dandilion, standing perfectly still on a hot summer’s day

A neatly stacked pile of papers, patiently sitting on the sill of an open window

A struck match, a single flame, a thin string of rising smoke

A cloud of thoughts that trail my every step, my shadow

All waiting for that one gust to blow them away