Most days, we don’t know
which ones to cross and which ones
…….(senses, secrets, songs)
to burn. So we paint them, portraits
of our own in
-decision, steel and solid basket
cases of our wandering hearts.
We run our hungry fingers along
their spines, hoping just their touch
can make us whole,
or wholly healing.
What’s that feeling? That we’ve got to stop
halfway, look down,
wonder if the long way back is
best, or if forward is where it’s at,
wonder if anyone
(a brother, a sister, a friend)
will be waiting on the other side.
We wonder at our brains
(is it wise to sway, just so? will it hold?),
smell the copper pennies of past wishes,
the burnt toast that says
perhaps we are crazy
or having some small stroke.
And still, we seek them,
passages on invisible
stretches of hope.
Day 9 for Poetic Asides April PAD Challenge. This is the one with all the prompts.