the lightworker

The lightworker finds a way

to cross the bridge, want to build a bridge, enter the tunnel

to swim, without arms, across the Blue Baloo

for those sunken years

rocking here and there to the vibration of life

and love

and hope

singing, not looking where he's going

on melodyroad

understanding that the path is a tune with each footstep

and he's tired

not to feel the branches and cold clear water something about the bayou

feeling strangely, like a thirsty believer

a cockroach 

this is it

either his last leg or his broken spirit

will either heal or sleep forever

and fortunately get where he's going

a place with tables and chairs and sharp corners and spheres

gold and white and beautiful ivory

meadows of petals and dust that lead until dusk

where he can listen and people hear

and find what they say

and give back to the tree of favor

witness a child, unafraid, press her ear to his chest and whisper "yep, there's the drummer"

and smile with her full headlights and heartbeam

warm and ample as pie 

unafraid to sheath now 

a long lost photo in a locket that soon 

will find his family who

wave goodbye as he set's off in his balloon

Reviews

[WordShaker33]

Great poem, keep up the great work.

[Sydney]

I really enjoyed the flow and the story of this, it's right up my alley of writing lately. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it. Very unpredictable but beautiful wording here. I love the image of a "lightworker". Lovely..

[Richard]

thank you :) I liked the idea of a lightworker too ...both the meaning and the word