Before I Forget

I wonder how petty politics will get this year?
As if there’s never room at the bottom of the pit
some of our leaders come from. I keep getting
that old man feel that I’ve seen this before,
over and over again like a bad movie I can’t
stop watching because there’s blood and sex
in it, a face of fear that somehow reminds me of
the beast I had to be to survive to this age.

Does my smile fool you when I say hello
with the “I fucking dare you” glare in my eyes?
That’s the Philly boy in me, the one who took two
city buses to school, only going backward
to catch an Express, avoiding those neighborhoods
that sometimes randomly act like why your ‘decent’
aunts warned you to stay away. Wasn’t that the adventure
you craved? Right there on those forbidden streets…

I talk to anyone. Shit, I’ve been in the same room with
Presidents and I’m supposed to be in awe of you? Why?
I’m looking for that something that only you can teach me,
it will amaze me, because everyone knows something
I don’t. I have your payment for your knowledge: my attention,
my questions, my open heart, and my love. Isn’t that more than enough?
Isn’t that what you are looking for?

I want to tell you this before I forget.
That love is indeed greater than fear.
That the places they told you never to go to contain
treasure and golden souls and diamond minds that
hold your answers. And one of those places, maybe more
if you keep looking, holds your soul mates, your spirit
family. Look around. Go adventure with your daring mates,
come back decorated with the awards and medals they give for
courage and loving entirely too foolishly.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s