Natural Born

This is a poem about what age can do to the mind. We think that words and actions that didn't hurt before won't hurt now.

Smiles and sunrises.
A restful morning and silence is broken with a whisper that holds no more truth than a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar.
They stare like children too, with regret at each mistaken word, with each softly spoken lie.
Realization, the sun must set, that tears must fall.
And I remember each broken smile from across the halls.
Each bit of convoluted wording wove a fabric easily accessible to the public,
And you looked at me as though I was a liar, as though I was the suspect.
And when were we taught to judge?
We mastered speech to give it power, but with each new word, we became hungry, with a need to purge.
They used to focus on the road less traveled, now they focus on burning each written bridge,
And with every title now digitalized,
Each piece of yourself becomes singed with the sunrise.
Morning used to signify the start of a new life, a new day.
When did we decide to give words the power to leave hurtful resonance,
When did we become weapons with what we say?
Regrets and sunsets.

Reviews

[Jimmy Yetts]

An eloquent and substantial offering.
Excellent questions--the pursuit of whose answers may well reveal exciting new poetic vistas.
Work to be proud of, Blue.