Working On It

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You ride waves

    of dried up seas,

No dolphins slicing.

    pink stained

        polished morning glass.

 

I travel oceans,

    white sails breathing,

No spitting camels,

    gold rolled folds

        of wind shaped sand.

We do share islands,

     cutting storms,

         lonely nights,

             colorful dawns,

                 love for our families.

But you make me uncomfortable, it’s terrible, I know, even unspoken,

    nothing I’m proud of.

So maybe we start with honesty

            and go from there.

I don’t blame you for the most tragic day in my life,

    but the symbols of you,

        good or bad,

            trigger memory in me,

                releasing prejudice,

        I wish, I wish, I didn’t have.

But I’m working on it.