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Acceptance
A welcome gaze, the sun shines ever present
Peering through thin overcast curtains
With the lightest of light’s gentle touch
The paint brush of the effervescent
Yuletide glides through the spectral air
It caresses the cadaver walking the path
Unaware of the beauty that surrounds
Gentle winds dancing with wispy hair
I was unfamiliar of this
The stinging of tears born from rage
Manifesting apparitions of our past so pleasant
The infanticide of a future yet to stumble into stride
I admit my adamant refusal to accept the present
Where murders migrate above me,
Where my spirit drifts in the atmosphere
This time, the clock has stuck like a gavel
The haunt of her hands on my wrists
the most pleasant of shackles.
Will there ever be a moment where I accept change?
When will I simply accept this weather
For what it is? Sharp, stark, and serene
When will I finally say,
“This is where I need to be.”
Copyright ©
B. Andrew Kelly
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