Poem -
I am Michael
All lives Matter
I was 5 years old and lost
Mom and Dad were sick with worry
I strayed from my boundariesÂ
I played and gambled with fright
I played a delicacyÂ
Oh, Sioux Lakota, she hurries
She blows wind into her eyes
And lets her cosmic faciaÂ
Wondering of a sorrowful,
dismal disparagingÂ
One lost candle that would burn
Forever in its taste
And you do rise to lawfulnessÂ
You gain a place, a serious fire
You are left with grim
Only to shine
For my name is true
My name is MichaelÂ
Speaking of our God
No such thing as brown
No such thing as black
No such thing as Asian
But, I am God's angel
And I strive to be like you
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Comments
Hi Michael..nice write of inner torment. I have a loved one who also struggles to find his way, think I told you this before? Anyway I can see Icarus has given you some wonderful and comforting advice, take heart...we all lose our way, I'm still looking for mine...hugs ?
Thank you both for your valuable advice. I appreciate it. Yes I do drink little too much, yes I make a fool of myself. But, one thing I am truly grateful for is writing. I love to write. I believe it's my saving grace. And I'm so grateful that there are other writers out there who understand. Writers like you. Peace.
I had to comment on this,, scriptures say nations, Kindred, tongues and people. No such thing as race, it was created in the 1700s by a scientist to try and explain skin pigment differences. He later recanted. Love your poetry my kindred brother!......Jim