who do you turn to when
no one seems to know the answer?
you are told this, you are told that
but the truth dodges like a fly you are trying to swack
when the business of the chaos just flies to no point back
little things shake your senses and attempt to put you back on track
like the little girl’s smiling at you as you wait in a foreign doctor’s waiting room
the little girl is intrigued that your language is different from her own, that you have a brace on your neck, but you are able to remain cool,
or your strength that emerges just at the point where you think you will lose it all
you stop at the bakery, purchase your favorite cake, then give an outside beggar a few coins and remind him not to fall.
the knowledge that you must keep on pushing, (in spite of the candle that burns unattended, you kinda hope that nothing catches fire, you hope God hears your cry)
you apply your lipstick, you don your stockings
you swallow the paracetamol or morphine
and prepare for the next daily hobbled run.
today I stopped in the forest to pick a tree, a a small oak..
but its roots penetrated so intensely…
‘s like it was saying, “No way, babe…. Leave me be!”
I tugged and tugged, then was allowed to see
that the tree would only grace me with a few of its orange leaves
Because the force, its power, it roots, as mine,
are connected down d—e—-e—-p
like Pappy Harry’s stubborn old grapevine!!!!!!