Sunday, January 11, 2009

(untitled)

Once, when I was a shiny-haired girl child,
I believed in Santa Claus, fairy tales and Jesus Christ.

I grew.
Listened.
A person needs to have a goal,

It seems,
A purpose,
Destiny.

The enormous weight of my choices
Sits in the corner
Deafening silence
Waits
Stares.
I drew a map
Plotted
Planned.
I revise, rewrite.

As I cut my swath, toward the hazy end of the path,
My place in this puzzle,
I find this unexpected grace:

To sing songs to
And gather back the shiny hair of a girl child,
So she will see her world and be
Unafraid
Inspired
Ready.

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