walk: a true story

Last night, I sat on the edge

of the river and yelled out into the blackness

admitting the truth, clinging to the ground before I fell

headlong into the black-encased stars.

You held me down with a hand. We talked of

broken wrists and cold mists. As

always, the rushing of water calmed and with it

flowed away the things that were wrapped around my eyes –

I saw the treetops silhouetted, chilled fingers losing flesh-leaves

as I fear the skeletal, I hope

you will not let me hide when the winter comes.

learning to lose

As I, the tiny baby, slowly drifts off to sleep

My wonderful watcher slowly pries these things from my fists – beautiful, lovely, blessings

To which I am clinging too tightly, harsh angry red all across my palms.

When I awake, grown up stronger from rest

I shall be able

to grasp the rungs with empty hands

and pull upwards.

living for today.

On this day, 32 years ago, four shots ended the life of this great man.

Not to say I agree with absolutely everything he did, but there is always something to everyone you don’t agree with – I respect him regardless.

Seriously though – imagine if everyone was really living life in peace? Truly, really, living for today?

May the world live as one.