Jagged is
that daily reminder:
A tongue among fortresses,
a soul among songs,
That day we deliver
the bread of the lonely
to the hide of an animal
slain for her bones.
And deep in enchantment,
waits a forest of strangers
whose lives are a pinnacle
of grace of the moon.
We hinder the helpless
when helplessness beckons us;
We’re tinder for fires
whose spark ignites soon.
So walk this gray gravelly
path I have lain here
in tides of fair weather
outside the monsoons.
For deep from the ashes
of memories of mothers,
my father’s voice begs me
the cross for the spoon
As though a tall trader
with wagons a-covered
could promise me gifts,
the deal in my veins.
He’d tell me his riches
were worth more than eyeballs,
that seeing takes courage,
that deciding takes brains.
But this is a choice
that has met with resistance,
though obvious seems
the matter of fate.
With skin at the ready,
and knife blades to summon,
The call can be made
for too little, too late.
I once read a story
of men who imprison
and those who choose freedom,
who break open the shells.
There are those who choose bloodshed
and those who choose peace,
and their hearts are unlimited
as the great ocean’s swells
Plunge to her depths then,
and you’ll find more than water,
but life that teems shining
in tentacles, scales.
And if you can feel more than see in this world
Then the trader is right
when your gold
hits his scale.
hits his scale.
CBF
--
Dec. 28, 2014
