Today’s poem is something from a few years back that I unearthed in the midst of looking for some pieces to critique during this year’s Wyoming Writers Conference. It’s a little rough. But that’s how gems are found. I’ve reworked it but I’m going to leave it a little raw. Because I remember that’s how I felt writing it. The rain outside today only compounds a lot of the heavy things in my heart these days. They are days of muffled creativity and the feeling that my bones are too old to carry the weight. I hope the sky clears soon.
I was brought down in that muted moment
like the silent space a can leaves
between kicks, down the street.
It was the heart beat of a city,
neon blood pulsing
and breathing subway grates,
the singular misstep down an open shaft
It was the knowing better
but doing anyway
angels not caring enough
to stop your steps up her stairs
It was in the hundred and four seconds
you had the chance to say no
and the hundred and five choices
that still led to yes.
It was the biggest fissure
earth shaking chasm,
opening wide two halves
of a tender young heart
a canyon whose sides would never meet again
making me the proud owner
of a man-made monstrosity,
gifting me my first ticket
to lay broken at the bottom of a choice
I didn’t make.
That’s where I fell
my introduction to the dark
a swift kick down the street
denting my tin as I landed
only to be launched up,