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On the Brink of Becoming
I stand on day's brink
beyond lullabies in dusk—
their echoes replaced
with budding flower questions
thriving in uncertainty
I pound the ground hard
fury rages in my chest—
why must I still wait
my voice shatters quiet skies
demanding I get replies
walls are barriers
denying my restless pleas
rules drawn, then erased—
I force doors that creak ajar
then slam shut to cage me in
I hear laughter sting
in cruel misconceptions
warmth turns into burns—
love does not embrace my reach
as my cries go unheeded
I peel off more skin
stepping into searing light—
trembling but aware
that the world out there won't bend
as it cuts and shapes my growth
the seed stirs in me
fierce, urgent, blazing, alive,
pushing through the soil—
each surge sculpts my core and frame
so I become who I am
Copyright ©
John Anderson
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