untitled 5/21/15

5/21/15

I would write about sitting at a bar
but I'm not old enough to drink,
writing poetry in the back rooms
surrounded by smoke and heart ache
as words flow out of me
from a place unknown.

Mushroom clouds and rainy days
have followed my footsteps
since my earliest days.
People said God walked with me,
but the waves swept away
the footprints,
so I was never really sure.

Sand castles were once
a thing of magic,
a place to escape to
when my path was
covered in darkness,
but tsunamis came
and pulled me out to sea.
I was drowning,
watching my creations melt
into the ocean.
Helpless, my cries were simply
bubbles on endless horizons,
carried up to the sky
by the hand of God,
while tired limbs tread water
just to keep my head from going under.

As my breathing grew labored,
I saw beauty in the sunsets
I had missed along the way.
Eyes closing, smile growing,
I gave up on the notion of control
and let go.

----------------------------------- ----

The next time my feet hit the ground,
I learned to swim in whatever life gave me.
Blue violet butterflies taught me to fly
through toxic clouds and lightning,
but their wings could only take me so far,
and I fell until I flew on my own.

Floating on clouds, looking down,
I survived once I gave up control.