Faith
Haveth
Wings
That
Reaches
All of heaven
Where
Your
Holy spirit
So
Full of grace

How dare
You lay there and be
So peaceful

Wanted to sleep in but work called me in
Thought about quitting so I can do some living
Soul searching doing what I really want
Haven't felt like me for a while just in this routine
My job doesn't define my full potential
Let the words flow through my heart
Clear my mind pursing what I truly love
Pen or keyboard the feelings and thoughts are pure
Writing has been the cure to help grow and mature
It's been deep since I've had anyone close in life
Someone who I can trust that understands
Always alone a rebel not like the rest clan
Trying to fit in but walked away not settling for less
Forgiving others is the hardest part since you think they'd change too bad things remain the same

The panel is cracked,
but it still opens when
I pull it back,
peeling
fat ***** of wooden skin
to expose
whatever lurks within.

I open it up
just enough
to look inside,
trying to put
pieces of my past
memories together
even though
they are like parts
of different puzzles.

My head pokes through
and I can see
that old tv,
the Nintendo,
and a little me
playing Mario three.

I can see the
soft recliner
laying back
as my baby brother
plays with those
little lettered blocks.

I push farther in
even though I am afraid,
terrified
that I might get
trap inside
my previous life.

I am trying to
recapture
the parts of my history
that are true
to share them with you,

but the bits get
blurred with time
and details get lost.
Till, I can’t find
the rooms behind
the other side
of the wooden portal.

in the event of an emergency,
return my eyes to the sky.
my hair to africa.
my skin to the rain.
give my smile to my mother,
she always loved it best.
give my mouth to my father,
my voice as well. make sure it is loud.

return my poetry to my English teachers,
give my words to my brother.
tell him there was so much i wanted to tell him,
give him both my ears, tell him i will always listen.

give my hands to my heart.
my heart will be tucked in my journals,
give them to the boy who loves me.
mail my songs to Maine,
with the letters you will find inside the shoeboxes.
give my feet to New York City,
my laughter to my students.

return my coffee mugs to my grandmother,
my tongue to her cooking.
give my books to my friends,
and both of my shoulders.

if there is anything left,
give it to the earth.
let the birds make of my bones a home,
let the spring find room to bloom.
give my lungs the air they were waiting for.

Force yourself
Into my
Life
But never
My heart