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Sep 2011
A foot atop a step
A bent knee
A stretch
And I’m there

I’m lifted and unsurely shifted
The wood underneath, I question
Integrity
Is there truth?

It holds a thousand stories
It seeps a thousand words
It’s seen a thousand faces

A traced tree
A swing set
A front porch

If it could utter the words
Oh, do speak softly
I want to learn
Learn of the hurt and of the happy
Oh, tell me about that tree
How you’ve seen it grow
Walk me through the story of
The heart-broken girl who
Wrote of a love that
Left her lost and disillusioned

Speak of the boy who came here everyday,
Desperately awaiting an answer
Whisper the tale of two lovers
Whose love was torn apart

Or maybe just the friends,
Just dreamers who stopped to read

I’m sorry
What must I expect?
Just my fickle mind at it again

I paint this picture
Of a lapse of beauty
And time
And cold hearts
And rough stone
And bulbs and vines
A towering wall of rock
And a stiff shift of air
Three steps that lead
Two lovers nowhere

Broken minds and
Shameless crimes and
Vivid skies and
Written lies

If my legs make it to the other end,
Just south around the bend,
Tell me what’s there to find
You’ve acquired enough knowledge to know

Prop a pen, its tip seeps in
Forever a word
Who will it show its face to?
Who will want to listen?

Maybe not the next or the next
For  ten whole years
But it doesn’t matter when
The truth of the mark will capture
The singer
Or the actor
Or the painter
Or the lover
Or the poet
Or the boy
Or the girl
Or the friends
Who feel lost
Standing here today
Or tomorrow

What ghosts
Haunt the beyond
Do they sing?
Do they run?

I saw them holding hands
He laughed and
She smiled
Then they quickly crossed
Right past me
I look above
Shield my eyes
Let them adjust to a light
That leaks through green
And spills upon me

You’re wise
The etched lines in the wood
Are the lines on the face of
An Iroquois chief

He knows of what we yearn for,
What we need
Am I too quick to search for it?
Is it written in time?

I’ll allow a soul to search
And I’ll wander through
The creek, up the steep soil
Feeling its tingle upon my fingertips
And almost understanding
But grasping at it to no avail
Do we really swing?
Or are we controlled like
Some sort of human marionette?
Are my decisions mine?
Or are they brought down to me
From the sky?

Must we reach out our arms
And stretch to finally understand?
Or will it calmly walk towards me
Carrying truth in a basket?
Is climbing the tallest tree up
The only way out?

Or will I be given wings to take me there?
Why can’t this beauty be forever?

If I could spend a life content
In this very spot,
I’d be just like you
I’d know all the answers
And see all the truth
With each stroke of a word,
More is gained

And maybe there’d be an angel
That came by every night
To dance and play
I’d be simply content
To witness the innocence

Dawn is fast approaching though
Goodbye child

She’d disappear to the other end
And I’d be left to wonder where
She dances next when the sun is back
And the clouds dot the blue

And I’d be left with perfect patterns
On my base, made from delicate toes
They’d line the planks
And dust the shallow water

But they’d be forgotten by noon
When it all but washed back into the river

I’m tall and I no longer need to jump
To reach the ceiling
But who said I can’t imagine?

Why can’t the trees out here house fairies?
Why can’t I swing from vine to vine
To catch up to my adventurous love?
I’m tall
But I’m in here
And I’m knocking,
Desperately knocking
To escape
What I have always wanted
If only I had known

Oh, well I must go
It’s almost dusk again,
I know

Thank you for listening
Where did it all go though?
Where’d you put it?

Did it seep into the wood?
Or fall upon the grass?

I shouldn’t question
I will trust
I’ll return soon

Remember to watch that angel for me
And let me imagine its beauty even further
Tomorrow and the next day and the next

What a dream
My knees are weak
But I stand and pick up my bag,
Leave, I don’t look back

I leave a trail of soul in my path
My spirit is afloat, washing over the atmosphere
Layering the souls of all the rest
Mackenzie Johnson
Written by
Mackenzie Johnson
825
 
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