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A Stowaway's Bow
Feeling like an aging autobiography with detailed pages torn from it's
binder. A spirit conflicted by it's inner voice and external callings,
Lost in an emotional wilderness where my internal compass has no bearings.
Desperate to bridge this shattered image with a concrete reality where
the self can be realized. Tired of sticking to this vacant sidewalk
as the traffic of life passes me by. A sample of peace could get me
through this night, A moment of beauty could inspire this wounded heart,
A compassionate voice could whisper me the words I've always needed
to hear, A chance to write my own future could undo this childhood curse.
A little bit too restless to learn all the lessons you have to teach.
A little bit too wise to practice all that you preach. Save your crutches
for another, I've been standing alone since I was first told to sit.
I wish I could step inside the safety of your dialogue, but I'm without
healthy word. I wish I could travel without this light, but you left
me in the dark. I wish I could forgive your abuse, but you've never
asked. Maybe I was never your ideal consumer, but I'm here now demanding
a complete refund. I have no patience for your excuses as I am held
accountable for this recovery. The healing begins with or without your
company.
L.M.