Poetry

Poem: Live

She’ll live until you make her die
Her hair grows longer and blonder.
She’s a shrill reminder of who you are
Of where you came from
Of whom you love.
With a buried instinct to pursue
The meaning of self you move
In and out of awkward shadows
To find nothing but an uninformed dawn each day
And an ignorant moon at night.
Scuttle not into false forgetting fields,
To artificial seclusion and haven
From the fears and pain you hold.
Let go. Move on and start to feel,
To feel the air to become more real.
Flowers open in your garden,
Let your heart follow them.

April 2004

Advertisements

1 thought on “Poem: Live”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s