Tuesday, January 18, 2011

I Met My Hero on the Back Porch

I look to
Secrets etched in cigarette smoke
That sketched out the past
In wistful recollections
And there I find you
I look to
Large wooden forks and spoons
That left such a mark
They might as well be stains
And there I find you
I look to
A collection of silver spoons
Strung up and sparkling in the sunlight
Revealing all their points of origin
In tiny block letters
And there I find you
I look to
Stories of struggle
Against all odds
And the continuous reclassification
Of self
And there I find you
No matter how little
We may find our words
Caught up in telephone wires
Or scrawled out across a page
You always reside in my heart
And I carry you around
Like a token
To remind me to
Stand up and take charge
Of my own life
Because in the individual lies the possibility
Of moving from one frame of mind to the other
In a careful series of contemplations
Over reflective beads
On a well used rosary
In hard worked hands
That wrinkle with the cruel march of time
But never lose their independent nature
That burns like a fire
Through the night
Guiding me along my own journey
And I thank you
For nothing more than being you
And I just want you to know
That no matter what path
Has been carved out before me
I'll look to you for more than answers
And that as the past spills into the present
Filling in all the blank pages
I find an infinite amount of respect
For the great women before me
And I only hope that I will one day become
Half the person
You have turned out to be

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