Make it Your Own

What's there that I missed?

In the mist the whisper

the list of the missing

things I ditched

and left? Or things

I feared and ran

from before I landed

in quicksand in locked

eyes with danger or wit

too great, never mind

fate. I hate

the longing that haunts

and shows up to taunt

my every blinking

breath, my wanton

heart

I sew words in hopes

of a better suture

My life's true suitor

green in curly scapes

in summer

shapes make their ways

through my daze

Dancing plays

and tumbleweed

where's the feed

for souls

like me

Lost in wondering

singing silent

where's the insatiable quest

the drive in my chest

the blindness to test

Lest I wake in another life

with tails untied and tasks

untried

Denied of dreams

of rose petaled streams

of bamboo leaps

and leaf colored leotards

Scribbled in air

scripted in sinew

imprinted on eyes

on karma's long thighs

How the waiting narrates

story lines

arabesque lies

of no pain but inside

as the pages they flip

on waiting's hip

I trip up and hiccup and

skip

ballerina

run

flat face first into muscled tree arms and soar

beyond writing OR

So write AND

dance-pick flowers-make life all yours.

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