Only when I look above to God for guidance do I find meaning.
Dancing, pivoting lightly, carefully leaping into categories
of being.
A glistening drop of rain upon my face belies the torment
hiding inside.
So sensitively living life, being hurt just by experiencing it.
Wishing – hoping – for the day it will end so I may find a
place in heaven’s garden.
standing on ends of thought,waiting for a poem to begin with them.
looking down upon me in straitenedtimes of life’s journey.Pushing forward, lending everyounce of possibility to affects ofnature, working to hold me closeenough so I don’t fall into pitsof suicidal derailment and hell.
pacing themselves on treks into futuredestinies of belonging.
Putting energetic voices to words in sentences, playing into hands of fateful decisions of future moments towards death on earth.
No understanding can be found outside my own intellectual knowledge, yet, maybe one hundred years from now someone from my family may be able to decipher all of what I’ve written within my poetry.
