It aches in my stomach
And burns wildly in my chest
I’ve so much in this vibrant world
That I still wish to experience
With my widened eyes
Swollen from their sockets
Like that of a bush baby
I wish to canoe down the Mississippi
Until I reach the salty tip of the Gulf
I want to see the liveliness
Of the Chinese Lantern Festival
It itches at my ambition
Like a flea agitating the patience of a dog
Time is wasted on sleep
I’d rather take a walk
You are perched
humbly on the White Pine,
The same soft pine
From which you have been
so delicately crafted.
There was never a better medium,
For you were a kind, nurturing soul.
Your body painted Christmas red,
Eyes masked in black,
Your crown, peaked.
How warm, your heart
How driven, your mind
How proud, your demeanor
I touch the back of your nape,
Wishing I were younger.
And you, alive.
Like when I used to hang from your neck
Close enough to feel
the patterns of your heart.
But I’m doing alright.
You taught me right from wrong;
How to love fully.
Now, when I see you take flight
From the tender limb,
I know you’re telling me to do the same.
It is an eerie feeling
Like a rock sinking in the pit of your stomach
The lies vomited into the mouths of the vulnerable
They protect us
Mistakes are disguised
Like buried dog shit
By the people to whom we are loyal
And we swallow every tainted word
Smoother than a pill
How long will we consume our trusted publications?
How many many amendments must we write?
Until we taste the poison?
Destroy, rebuild, repeat