blessed, and seldom yourself

by michaelsferrell

Posted to Poetry on 2001-11-28 00:40:00

I stepped right into it, raised pain and born streets, and somehow
your a part of this.
You were once less west,
then lost back east, days remembered best.
Truly blessed, if, you minus second guessing, and a lot less
endless thinking,
but still you were burdened, getting yourself dirty, with what you did;
You needed to,
and deep you buried everything.
In the back by the tree.
What you thought you could get away with, until something when
while digging, makes a little discovery, and with this uncovering,
somewhere beneath the leaves.
What you thought you left behind, makes it to the surfacing.
A perfect flaw, you thought was long gone, but you buried this,
and slapped your face. Fearing your own fists,
and seldom yourself,
and maybe you ask,
how I know of this.
let’s just say through experience,
the laws of imperfection, and it’s
rise to the surfacing.

michael s. ferrell
© 2001