Archive | February, 2015

If My Son Should Become a Poet

11 Feb

Dear Son,

When you become a man

donning an elongated frame,

Graced with the view of a maturing sapling,

know that there is much more to see.

Recognize the frailty in your own perception

of what is real

what is not

and of what is yours to hold.

There will come a time my son

where you will want to hold a woman

as if she is your own.

Do not take her story

and make it yours.

There are some things

destined to be   s  e  p  a  r  a  t  e

no matter how close they are together.

Promise me,

you will never have the audacity

to turn her into a poem.

Her breasts, a swelling stanza

Her brokenness, a hungry metaphor

Her smile, a simile

Her self- esteem an opening line

Do not ever rely on another’s body

another’s pain

another’s laughter

to make your meaning for you.

Dig deep my son.

Examine roots at their furthest depths.

Be shaped by the experience of having loved and lost,

and write from there.

Do not create from borrowed experiences

Live      your      own.

Gain insight from what the world has to offer,

Break open in front of a rising sun

Feel the riddled presence of death

Learn to pray in different tongues

Set your feet in the waters of many seas

Laugh from the deepest place in your belly

Cry from that place too

Live my son

Live

And write from that place

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Fault – Lines

10 Feb

There is a fault line in our bed

Each of us too scared to cross it

Fear that it may swallow us whole

There is no promise, no guarantee

That we will be met half way

The fault line expands with the passing of time

There is no biding it away

We have forgotten whose errors created it

The growth

Compliments of our negligence to reach across

the fault line.

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