I write poetry and
I like it but
People don’t read it
They don’t seem to like it much
I just get cold sometimes
and words are my warmth
they keep my hands from aching
my feet from being frozen
To the ground I am standing on
I was never big on
staying put
my heart just moves
and moves, and moves
almost as quickly as my head
I don’t really go anywhere but
I am never here
always somewhere
else
I guess it’s just my way of living
Because I wouldn’t be
if it weren’t for this thing inside my body telling me:
Keep going…don’t stop.
When you fall down pick your things up
off the floor
even when they break
They are worth something
more than just dead weight
that you carry around like a trophy
Don’t be lonely
you are not the only wanderer
Your feet have friends
they eat the dust that others walked upon
It is all they need to press on
So press on
You can’t see it but
there is a lightness up ahead
the world is dead but you are alive
Thriving and moving and
walking on into something bigger than all this … stuff
And heaviness is a lie
you were told to keep you from flying
Just because they lost sight of who they were
You were more than you’ve been told
and are more than you can know
but it will show if you move
Into unknowns
they expose the sunlight in your skin
the things within you that shine like satellites
You are a star
in a vast sky
And we want to marvel at your light
So be light
and see the things that make you more
listen to the whisper of the hand that pulls you forward
Don’t be afraid of burning out or blowing up
because it all ends the way it began:
in dust
And dust is what you are
and what made you move
feeding the feet inside your shoes
You knew
that this is where you were going all along
and here it is
So keep going…don’t stop
Pick your things up
off the floor
and go Home.
