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J C Apr 2016
All I hear are muffled sounds
as I walk slowly, closer toward the light.
Today is the final step in which I’m bound
by duty and history I’m about to write.
Everywhere I look are cheers
from people I do not know;
their spirits are high above the skies.
Beneath my mask is a certainty unclear
of the task I am about to undergo;
no time now to say proper goodbyes.
Up calmly, ascending the stairway to the unknown,
my heart pacing more rapidly than before.
Though safe in numbers I feel more alone,
all courage and might I now implore.

Radio sounds buzzed and fed through the lines;
the countdown now comes down to Five, four,
three, two, one—my ears ring from the sounds combined;
this is what it means, what it feels to be alive.
All signs seem well, so far so good;
though I feel as if my weight is pulled down.
Everything looks so small, so minute,
so close yet so far as it really is should;
it’s into unfamiliar ground we’re abound.
Left and struck with awe, I see no one up here;
dark matter clouds all thoughts of fear,
as the stars shimmer even closer in space.
This memory, this single moment will never disappear—
up and away into a sweet unfamiliar embrace.
J C Jan 2016
Walks alone with you,
my hand holding yours
best when counting from sixty-two,
sixty-two minutes along this sandy shore.

A silent gesture,
a smile from ear to ear
all the more becomes sure,
sixty-two hours, love is sheer.

The wind against your hair,
bologna and cheese on your lip.
Deeply spellbound by your stare,
sixty-two days we've tightened our grip.

Walks alone with you,
my hand away from yours.
Love drifting away by the bayou,
Sixty-two weeks, here comes a detour.

— The End —