Spotlight Lost-n-Found

Spotlight lost-n-found

Spotlight Lost-n-Found

Straight through away from the nothing
From stagnation, no movement, no love
Into me and my walking into my next
As chapter has been folded, chapter is
Captured in, and in my hands and inside
Closing the intricacies that dust marked
Until the nothing of such path called forth
The direction with my solid heart upon
Landscape just a bit easier to touch
As goodbye felt better than staying
And heartache to heal, felt better than
Him, I shall not speak of, or for, in here
As the gone is gone and my begun
Has held me when I cried less for
Not minding my lone-cat status
Because I am wild shapeshifter
Of all cats to see, or see disappear
In the shadows of my own way
Marked by none other to see me here
I've glimpsed my like species beyond
My own daughter I've also freed
And saddened by the incompatibility
Of no love given back, yet healed
To know now I've chosen and
No longer burdened by the fate
Of abandoned Alien on this Earth
If another finds me, no matter, for
I live as if I meant to live like this
And hold my daughter close on sunsets

Maybe I'm a whole new book, no mind
Chapters gone and no more turns
As I repair my own leaks and filters
Speaking only to teachers of my heart
To grow a glowing ability to stand
Without the trauma taking my breath
When reminded of my own desires
For audience, movies, and story inventions
Despite my fear of the new I press
On to this stage I dressed in rags for
Because I was tired too long in the
Making of tales to shower my losses
And I'll take the light upon my
Dirty skin layers as bright as a spot
If hearts and ears can heal/hear with me there
I will dress up after my coma is
Cracked into the birth of my screams
Because wings are of pages in print now
Poems on pages to be dedicated once
Maybe I'll still say, Thank You Matthew
There in the front where it once belonged
And maybe the place that 'gift' was for
Will be blank and assumed no more
Who do I write for now, in my love
Because I'm the only one standing after
Dust of the pages that were burned
Because the rhythm was the wind
In the sandy prairie where hills were made
On the songs of before a human's voice

blog comments powered by Disqus