A Bond Through Which We Speak
It started long ago
As CDs in the car
Overtime hours spent in a retail store
A gift on a date, kept on an old dresser
The idea we are all connected in some way.
From my father and my older brother
In the car rides then, I learned
Why my ideas were foiled
Learning to hate myself in a therapeutic way
A gift from them, to keep in my mind
On my unstable shelf, in my pocket
Keeping me in contact with my brothers
However far apart, we share lines; they’d make me smile
It can bring me relief, a wilted rose,
Abstract art. My parents saw
Tin foil boats in the bathroom sink, they held
Together above the clear ocean
Searching for the porcelain shore
Holding the cargo of our dreams, overweight
Mine drifting far apart from the rest
Vessels that sank with time.
Into the ocean it drove me
Beyond the depths where the sun can’t grasp
But I found them, I returned to them on land
They hand me their CD; inside is their promise.
It’s cheap tickets, that I can come back home,
It’s hearing my family beyond my room
Wondering if their legacy is safe with me
I learned on my ride home to show my
Inner glow, cut deep drilled
Sorrow with their razor blade, but
Am I porcelain, or just the clay I had lost in the fire.
Past the heat, molding the remnants
Of the foil beside my mind
Reminding me of my parents, their embrace
My everlasting friends, telling me
“I hope you're happy.”
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
