Here’s a short poem about hope
I’ve been going the wild side on the thicket near the edge of town
when I go to the grocery store up the ways, and the lights go down
quickly when you walk with the speed of a lazy cat, intrigued by three
noises tickling the tacky tackle of sharp chirping chickweed near me:
Past, future, present fumbling all at my feet, and still just walking longer
and longer as the pitch raises its void into the sky, as a fear-monger
to scaredy-cat hearts like mine.
I’m no linen-shirt tipping up my hat to pool my hands in my finds
I’m no gold-laden lad lying in fabulously good turns of binds
I have a thickness resting in my chest that’s mine to fight
to stumble over with the clumsiness of my own feet at night
Maybe I’ll fall down a black hole and keep falling forever
but that will make a story and folks will think me clever
Maybe there’s even no one, no one at all besides me
but just to breathe is a power that confounds the sea,
let relativity blur the line,
and bask in the knowing unknowing that unfolds quietly around us
