PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I see you chasing your tail,

Running after that illusion,

You think is so true.

That when you cry,

You are weak.

It's a load of bunk,

And you know it.

Or in the least,

It's that double standard,

You've lived by.

Suck it up, Drive on, Drive on.

Ain't no time for tears,

And if you stop for fear,

You're dead in your tracks.



Someone has baffled you with,

Mud in your eyes...

From the bottom of the river...

Of tormented emotion.



In every life,

Rain falls...

A little now and then,

And at times a whole lot.

But your skin is no levy,

And Humanity,

That human spirit,

That collects itself,

Rises, and dusts itself off,

After each hurricane or tornado,

Or climbs above the disaster of 9-11,

That is the emotion inside you.

Unfettered, unharnessed, and untamed...

Like the Mississippi river.



She rises with the rain of hardship,

And you scurry to hold her all in,

Fighting yourself,

Trying to pack away,

Sandbag after Sandbag,

Just to keep the hurts in your life,

Only where you can see it.



But you feel the peak coming,

And your tired, from packing,

Lying, and denying, and you know,

That hysterics won't hold you up,

Keep you focused,

Able to prioritize,

Or chunk the task down into

A more managable size.



Levy's and dikes,

Are more than systematic culverts,

Drains or ditches...



Sometimes they are friends,

Who say, "Whoa, slow down."

They pick up your yoke,

Or bare your cross,

If but only for a moment.



And if the mountain slides,

Forcing a tidal wave of water into

The lilies of the field.

We, we few friends will be there.

To bathe you, to hold you,

To let you cry, to return to the chaos,

And help build your life back up.