Saturday, June 12, 2010

Rite of Passage

Raise your fist and rail
against this cacophonous land.
Does anyone ever receive
a fair chance
and solid ground?

Am I a better me for
having broken wings?
What if Grandpa had lived?

Life is a search
for the joy I had,
but I am turning away my chances
to march forward into the mystery.
The weeds around my feet are ready
for the storms of change.

Have I had enough of limping
down the trail of the survivor?
Closing down,
will this love be enough to carry me on?



  1. Your are indeed gifted with words. If we don't stop searching eventually we know the ways we are better for having broken wings. Sometimes they kept us from flying places we should not have gone.