The backyard fence stares me in the face
Pushing each splinter into my hands
I read its cracks like my grandmother's favorite novels
I want to see each footnote that was left there for someone else
The worlds "a wall never stopped anyone"
Are carved into the third post
I look down at my hands
They are shaking with blood and I cannot wipe them off
For the fear that these splinters will seep deeper into my skin
My life holds an uncertainty to it
Grips every piece of lust in its hands
Pulls it in, through my rip cage
Does not care if it cracks on its way inside
Anyone would drive through a locked gate
If something that they needed was behind it
I try to lie to myself often
Convince myself that this is only a little set back
That everything will be okay eventually
But I have found that repeating these words after every falter
Is getting very old
It only seems to get worse
I was told once that God does not show you the whole staircase
Only the first step
And I am trying to live by this
Trying to take one step at a time
But I have been climbing for years and I feel it decaying beneath me
I am only waiting for the tipping of the cup
A feather can break a bridge if it has endure enough
The backyard fence stares me in the face
I realize that I have not done anything in my life
Worth telling stories about
But I want to oh so badly
I want to leave this world with a backpack
One that carries every memento, every scrapbook, picture frame
I want to show my grandchildren the novels I have written
For them to read, see the footnotes
As if they had written them
Themselves