not a face you made
under different stars.
heavy with shade
take the best of me
even, if you cannot stay.
for in the end
I am just this
rooted in soil of soul
writing words some will comprehend
others will never try
you give me pause
when you glance back…
my branch and leaf
and if you cannot stay
I will be ok
there is nothing else to be
Chain linked fence rushing out
beyond the edge of my horizons
like torn fishnets over a weary leg
“Do the poorly painted life of weeds,
ways, and vermin horseback riding anthills, see me the same way”?
Beneath this iron tree of torn cloth and
broken branched shade maker,
concentrating on the concert of forgotten:
The leg is metal white with crumbled stubble
dusted over with green bits of shouldn’t be there moss.
Knowing when I wake
the fishnets and weary leg world of forgotten will be,
long before I wake again.
Where you go, some will follow
where you lead, some will not go
where you stand, some will stand with you
when you get up, some will shake their heads
When you speak, some will listen
when you sing, some will shut their ears
when you laugh, some will laugh with you
when you cry, some will see only tears
but when you know yourself, and confidently walk
forward into the atmosphere, some will not notice
but many many, child, will.