This is the first line of a simple poem
But it can be more...
Might be a loving letter to every inner child who forgot how to wear his smile
Reminding us to put away these societal masks.
Can be a song for the heartbroken maiden
Sitting by the mailbox waiting to hear from the man
Who took away her breath and then lost his to some unnecessary war.
A lullaby to any disturbed mind
Too bewildered to entice the idea of sleep
Waiting for the freedom in letting go find a way to conquer the fear
That binds them to what they feel they can't lose.
It can also be an artistic riot
This poet's way of saying no to the injustices formulating a fatal tomorrow
The inked bridge between passive inaction and resistance
And possibly revolution.
Can be a path leading to a forgotten love
Guiding every purple heart back to the springs of their passion
Where rare wildflowers bloom.
This poem can also be the essayistic light
Carrying the weight of a scribe's needs for change
The transformation waiting to happen.
A way to quiet the voices
That whisper the lies we feed ourselves when no one is listening.
It could be a way of evaluating life
The piece that interprets that how we live is imposed
By the limits put in place by age and death.
These words can be a poem
That is about the poem that dreams of being more than a poem.
wambuku w.
