Battle Creek Hearts
To heal hearts, there are three ways. When waiting to be free so many days. Number one, tears, number two, laughter, number three pouring out fears, to someone who gets it. They just have to listen, and understand the uniqueness between a woman and a man. They have to add their interpretation, so you know they’re not faking it, just because it’s their job while you’re there. But the punctuation mark, for me to see, is you can see it in their eyes, the beginning of one tear, my dear. The more of one, two, and three, you can realize, means your walk can become horizontal in elevation, instead of slanting upward. No longer will you be out on a limb of your own making, while you dangle helplessly. They will throw you a rope, so you can cope. The rope will be made of a smile or two, that lights up when it’s observed in a room. So you know they didn’t fly in on a wicked witches broom. But a good witch from the north, floating in a bubble, like Glenda in the wizard of Oz, will be easier to spot. Her eyes will be open wide and responsive. This is the second strand necessary to sticth squares of a handkerchief size quilt, firmly together. The quilt can keep your hands warm in any kind of weather. You know by the type of quilt that they made it, and were the sender. So they now will care for you, and can trust with your emotional life. Because They’ve lived your strife,
even after an overnight bender. Now Awake from anxiety about their job, and family obligations, they can put those aside to help patients from any neighborhood or nation. Can’t thank them enough for putting up with my bull, and my pull, except by me accepting their gift from their hearts, learning to live and eat better, not be such a tart. Adding years to my life hope they appreciate this poem of thanks, so I can walk the walk, instead of just talking the talk. Signed yours truly, With love, Randolph Byrd, FVP ( Free verse poet)
Copyright © Randolph Byrd | Year Posted 2022
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