Sunday, May 22, 2016
light at the end.
[im swimming in a sea of stated facts,
and i'm not sure i should bite]
There's a light that flicks on and off at the end of my street,
in the shade of the trees at the bend in the cul-de-sac.
The light shines when I'm looking for it,
but I can't be sure it's there when I'm gone.
It seems like every time I turn around,
the light goes out.
My little light is fleeting,
nesting furtively in the shadows
there when I need it to shine, but biding time,
saving strength, saving itself for another night;
until it can split through smoke tendrils and lift me up,
right below the power lines.
as long as I never know who's behind you.
And maybe I'm missing something, maybe I should venture to find it,
Instead of looking for it only when I light a cigarette,
when I walk out to take out the trash;
instead of just ignoring it when it rains,
instead of dreaming it winks out in my periphery.
I carve circles in the concrete with the crunching of
glass and gravel under boot heels, under alternating laces,
just to find the right light, under you, before I drift away.
I just asked to be bathed in this light, you see,
you're not all I have,
but I'm sinking, so just drown me.
Just drown me,
little light of mine,
as long I know you're behind me,
I'll be there.
When you're off,
When you're on,
When you're on your own.