Leaning Into the Wind

Standing with arms out-stretched leaning into the wind
my footing slips, eyes closed – images cascade
just like a waterfall in slow motion, color burst; shades of blue
one, two, three, four tumbling, tumbling; how can I ignore
all that has passed from dirt to dust tossed into the air
nothing more, nothing more than what is lost; what is there
for good luck I wear a red thread around my ankle
as if that and a rabbit’s foot might lift the dark clouds
that hang over me; around, surround me
maybe when the sense of you dissipates into a light mist
cloaked in more than sorrow; grief chokes me
but like a thorn in my crown, angst and heartbreak
there’s nothing standing behind me
or in my way to take a leap of faith
damned if I do and who knows if I don’t
there’s always that space, that hidden place
far corner of my mind – whispers, fuck it, tomorrow

Dreamscapes littered with all the unsung lyrics I’ve written,
and I still can’t sing when the lights are on or off
the words, notes, drumbeats that skip like stones
fragile sentiments; haunting, shallow, grasping at straws
the baseline shuffles; slow step and grind to four
strings on a violin stretch, snap and God waves a hand
across the Sound, my heart beats, always a bit out of sync
even though it’s only an echo bouncing back and forth;
I am well aware of my missteps, side shuffles and glides
I am well aware I have remained a wounded child my entire life

©2018 TrilbyYates