Thursday, October 27, 2011

terra

terra, you were tearing pictures out

and throwing them to the sea

but come

on, raise your voice to me

and carry yourself


because i cant do much for you, i'll tell you all you mean:

you're beautiful and we are only human


and i am the product of somebody else's grace

and i am an object, a caricature of my father's face

and i'll be honest--i've never felt at home

for fathers or forests torn down in my wake

and halcyon,

i've been drifting you along until i find someone new


i'm still afraid

that knowing is not safety

i mean what i say; I'll grow up and move away


a social debt,

time well spent

a sun to light my nights

a coma-death

demurred when

i slept through the night


i'm still afraid

that knowing is not safety

you're beautiful, but

youth is not a panacea for failure