A Privilege To Be

A Privilege To Be

Winter is coming reminding me

of the hole in the pocket of a coat

I see beautiful people I don't 

want to see go growing old 

I wonder if they know their life 

is a miracle 

I wonder if they would believe 

me if I told them that it’s a privilege to be 

Existing is extraordinary

a rare event a chance to experience

consciousness and present moments 

Darkness is only night 

day will come there will be

sun again and again 

Hardship and struggle too

no one's exempt from 

hurt and pain it always rain

it’s a miracle it’s a privilege to be

it’s a miracle it’s a privilege to be

A Peace of Real Estate

Love is not a property line

Empathy is not a lease to sign

I was never meant to hold a key

to a house that wasn’t mine

made up my mind to leave it behind

tired of paying rent in a heart

that leaves me out in a cold

I’m taking back the heat to warm

my own soul I thought myself 

a savior strong enough to bury 

the strain but I only built 

a prison out of someone else's 

pain for too long I been trying 

to fix a broken toy but looking 

deep into the void I  now see 

I am the thief who stole my joy 

Lines

      I forgot how to say
    you forgot how to say
        so we don't say
between the messages sent
we said too much of nothing

Call Me

 "call me when you get there"

not text me
not send a heart emoji

"call me"

 somebody cares enough
to wait for your voice
on the other end

 to know you made it in
to know you're safe and sound
to know you made it home

 that was the language
of nostalgic tenderness

when a call meant more
 than a notification dot

 when somebody cared enough
to wait for the sound
of your voice to tell them

        "I'm alright"
"I'm good"
         "I'm straight"

safe departures and 
safe landings were
 prayed and hoped for 

 we say see you later
as if later has already
made a promise to be

 we know later isn't promised

 my love is

"call me whe...

Pocket Change

In today's economy 
 it's next to impossible
to make a dollar make cents.

The Trials and The Tribulations

Life called us forth before
we could reply

 A gift unasked a burden we
must bear

The trial of the test the
question of the "why"

 The sentence is the time we
serve

We mourn the things that
living takes away

 We learn that freedom
comes from being bound

Through the throes of
change we lose ourselves
each day

 Somehow in the losing we
are found

We practice innocence but
cannot stay that way

 Responsibility becomes our
artifact

We learn to care then we
choose what to say to those
we care for

 We answer life by giving it
our heartbeat

The trial is life

 The tribulation is time

The verdict is who we
become in the time we
served 

OUTAGE

the power goes out suddenly the bright city remembers what darkness is all about windows blackout one by one streetlights surrender traffic signals fall silent the skyline disappears we look up from our phones the battery is 50% the device needs power and the power is gone the sky was there the whole time now it too is gone no way to reach out how did we forget how to call when the phone goes dark we can't go live no way to broadcast that we're still alive we can no longer announce our existence or beg for help when we need assistance now we hope our neighbors in a time of danger are people we can trust we are strangers because we never talk to them and they don't talk to us yet suddenly they become the only people we can reach it seems none of what we learn about the light matters for long when darkness is sure to return we look for the light we search for the truth in our darkest hour we forget how to shine yet even a spark can teach the dark how to recede like water finding ...

Reserved Sovereignty

"Asking" when does asking
collapse into begging

  It happens when the hand
stays out too long 

 Waiting for a drop of water
to fall into the palm

Drawn from a well that's been
dry so long

 I ask my mother a simple question
formulated from a natural need

 I don't go any farther than the 
act of asking

I do not step across the border

 Where a request becomes a plea

 Mama became good at fixin'
broken promises of my father 

 Mending the tears inside me

 refusing to sacrifice my dignity

I usually leave the question on the floor

I turn away before it has the chance
to drop me to my knees

For I only give my God my please
 

The Painful Chapter

Walk Away

answers never came in spoken words in the silence of a room plans were delayed and calls went unheard shadows formed where trees should bloom seasons begging skies to change the current weather of ones mind the fog cleared from these eyes to see what was left behind When the sky is no longer blue When finally you know the truth the only thing left to do is reclaim the days of ones youth no final fight no grand goodnight no explanation left behind to say goodbye