melissaahowells
|
|
|||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||
|
|
I saw a sign
it read: to be understood is good, but I thought... its better to fly from all interpretations. The wind today is smooth and light, as it barely stipples my face. I feel alive quickened by its touch. I wish I could soar, glide the thermals to somewhere more somewhere new-- to be distant and with the distances. I often feel my best self only with and in the wind. Some days, though, I feel lonely and alone. Yet, the wind moves me. Some days I stand tall, resolute... but still not completely straight. Pelted by the rain while the wind pushes me. I'm not the pebble who knows when it is time to move, nor be moved Some nights I lie awake listening to the roaring sea. Its thrashing sounds like desperation and restlessness. In my shoulders I feel an itch the growing pain of a fledgling's wings. I have skies and mountains to cross, and more oceans to see, and many distances yet to travel. It feels better to be unfinished, even at times to unravel. Please: Let us never tell one another what to do... but be patient enough to listen... (thank you) legal copyright for this poem August 27 2018...4:00pm PST time date stamped and also for this Author/Poet/Writer Melissa A Howells and also for this legally copyrighted site title Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-A-World Re-edited 11:32A>M> December 5, 2018 Vote for this poem |
|
