Christine Phillips | + Follow Poet |
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The Drills

Lead me to the place where I can glance at your face, lead me to the place where I can in sit in solitude and reminisce the days of my youth.

 I felt like an only child roaming the woods in the town and piecing a plan together to lead me to where destiny is bound. The birds are flying from tree to tree with a message of hope to rescue thee but the clock was too slow, it had destiny on the go.  

I lay on the ground staring at the blessing and the crown and the clouds rolling in the sky bidding the dark day’s goodbye. I could see the lights flickering through the trees and descending on the ground with a special assignment to rescue me. 

It penetrates my iron flesh and left me gasping for breath. Suddenly water starts running out of my eyes and a laser type heat ran deep into my feet oozing sacrificial water out of my flesh and flush it out into the gully. 

I lie there for a while listening to my heartbeat pumping blood into my veins and expanding my horizon. The birds fly on top of the tree extracting my dignity.

 The squirrel was there too and the woodpecker was getting ready for the grand ceremony. It flaps it wings and dresses it coats with its beak in the hot weather while the air plane above cruise in fine weather leaving the rainbow trail behind it. 

I have been in the woods as long as a good soldier should climbing trees and watch the birds rocking in the breeze; they are singing a beautiful song of how the west was won and their unmatched melody resonate beyond the woods making man, birds, and beast happy.  

When I was a child, I enjoy my company alone and I used to go shopping all by myself in the town. I built a tree house that shoots up in the sky and it was my only place to escape when mobs were in town.  

I used to read in the tree house lots of Nancy Drew stories with lots of suspense and a message that reaches heaven. We had a little book club so we had to complete the book in a week to pass it on to the next street. 

 I used to write stories too and poems inspired from heaven, and when I felt sad my tree house was the only refuge I had. I escaped into another world and wrapped soul around it. 

Get ready for the drill and put your fleece on the window sill, the woman will lead from in front, she will spread the message of hope for those caught in the bind in this vicious time. 

I can see them doing the drills and getting ready for the “big thing” form a line.

Copyright © Christine Phillips | Year Posted 2023

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