If we could have a say in how life dressed us
we would opt for a fabric that flows freely
in the winds of change
not an uncomfortable
end.
change
A day in the Fall
clouds float by and dissipate
one into the other
almost bare branches
hold on to dead leaves
as if they have forgotten
the promise of Spring
change is necessary
I want to remind them
to reach out and shake off all those leaves
and watch them fall to the ground,
one by one kissing their final resting place
but I’m not Father Time
and it’s beyond my power to force transformation
on trees and people and my heart
if all are not ready yet
So I sit and watch clouds dissipate
one into the other
leaving a faint trace of themselves behind
before taking on a new shape and
embarking on a new path.
truth no. 32
endings come in all shapes and sizes
and still we’ll never have a say
in the one we end up
wearing.
Life and death dresses each of us as it desires
with the fabric of change.
Constant Change
how can you be sad in Paris? they ask
because they can’t yet understand the beauty of my sadness. the romance in my tears.
I can’t be who I was last time I stood here
the city stands still in its expansive gray as I change, and then
change again.
Wild
I don’t have time for tears anymore-
Happiness has become my clock’s battery,
my alarm to wake up
and burn
feel, touch, scream,
cry, bite, love, grow,
scratch past the surface
the mediocre people seem to settle for.
Wild
Sometimes I can be trouble
if I don’t have someone just as wild
to run with.
