PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It was left for you today,
the blood on the tracks
that would lead you to the precursor
of your life.
You'll pass the pussy willows
and honeysuckle trees
and catch dirt in your hair,
and hopefully in your mouth.
The layers of bark
are growing fast
on the trees
and the leaves do not care to catch up.
They are less burdened now
since the berries have bulldozed
themselves to the ground and
stick to the bottom of your boot.
Perhaps, you think, this can be mistaken
for blood.
But instead you shrug a heavy shoulder
and move on.

The crackle of dirt beneath your feet
reminded you of the fireworks
that once dusted the summer's night.
We all knew how to be free,
how to sink our hearts
in the politics of love,
how to strive for someone
who seemed lonely
and frail.
We made houses of stone
that reached the hierarchies of heaven.
We knew how to be free.

So the fragments of air
settle onto your skin
as you make your way home.
May it all be different for you.
May it all be.