Friday, 29 April 2011

29/30

after i laid my stepping stone down
like a welcoming mat, i took up
a new kind of prayer and i called it
the one in which i forget

i do not know whose hand it was
that pulled me along
but i remember a girl with dark tresses
and eyes like icicles saying let go and
a fiery woman with sprites in her fingers
and legs wide open

i remember the way it felt when
it all made sense, and the newborn
hopes taking shape in poems about
fingertips walking down backbones

if only i could say

i remember the smell of burning
the ani difranco songs drawing
spirals round my throat and
the indecision that tried to be
subtle on the armrest

if only i did not talk so loud
about things that don't really matter

i remember wishing i could pray,
stand in rows like the women
in coats and neat little shoes
and wanting more than anything
a home for my hands
and my questions

but my gods are busy playing
scrabble, and home?
that is where i left my heart
when i decided to jump

6 comments:

  1. I really love this poem. I can identify with the emotion, the confusion, the frustration, The Gods, playing scrabble with peoples lives. Love it. Great job!

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  2. How are you?
    Please consider making a contribution to poets rally week 43 today,
    A free verse is appreciated, you rock!
    See you soon.
    Happy Thursday!
    xoxox
    love your input at poetry potluck.
    Placing your blog link in Jingle Poetry Blog Roll by Sunday..

    ReplyDelete
  3. BLESS YOU..

    Thanks for sharing.
    A++

    well penned ,

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  4. This poem is absolutely beautiful =) Love it!

    ReplyDelete