Feelings
My heart
A red clock, a construct
of the human experience,
Beats like a cleat on concrete and can’t help
but not relate to the grease beat of
chill trees, swaying with the breeze
Aimless trees, and they’re asleep
For moments that don’t linger
More than a second too long
And they will pass…
Much quicker than beer or grass can grasp
Because every minute casts off its dawn,
To a lawn of littered experience
But here I share the thoughts I bare
Shouting, “Feeling, feeling!”
Me and my hair are constantly reeling
At what makes my blood so red
And everything else so black and dead
Like the platform on which I prostrate
this human mind…
I keep pushing and pleading, breathing
And feeding my life through
The loop of a needle
Weaving myself into
My final tapestry
Even as I’m shoulder deep
In humanity
And even in the absence
Of a colony
I know that this sea is where I’ll be
Whether I choose to escape myself
And explore someone else
Or remain here in my constancy…
In my bed of river stones
Built to be alone, or see
Whoever god delivers me
I pray for that man…
He’ll carry my honey suckle season
Impressed with the scars on my hands and
yawns in my chest,
He’ll fill my cup with water like wine
and will hold me high and say that
“it’s fine…”
“Even when feelings rage…
We’ll know that whether crying or caged
They’ll be alright…
Best friend, hold tight
Time is like money, it’s meant to be spent
Not vaulted with fear
To waste
Unkempt..”
He’ll say,
“Feelings are fine
but as long as your mine
Your feelings can’t steal you away…”
I wait for that day…
Copyright © Allison Ballard | Year Posted 2013
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