#maturation
Boundless
by Michael R. Burch
for Jeremy Michael Burch
Every day we whittle away at the essential solidity of him,
and every day a new sharp feature emerges:
a feature we’ll spend creative years: planing, smoothing, refining,
trying to find some new Archaic Torso of Apollo, or Thinker . . .
And if each new day a little of the boisterous air of youth is deflated
in him, if the hours of small pleasures spent chasing daffodils
in the outfield as the singles become doubles, become triples,
become unconscionable errors, become victories lost,
become lives wasted beyond all possible hope of repair . . .
if what he was becomes increasingly vague—like a white balloon careening
into clouds; like a child striding away aggressively toward manhood,
hitching an impressive rucksack over sagging, sloping shoulders,
shifting its vaudevillian burden back and forth,
then pausing to look back at us with an almost comical longing . . .
if what he wants is only to be held a little longer against a forgiving *****
to chase after daffodils in the outfield regardless of scores;
to sail away like a balloon
on a firm string, always sure to return when the line tautens,
till he looks down upon us from some removed height we cannot quite see,
bursting into tears over us:
what, then, of our aspirations for him, if he cannot breathe,
cannot rise enough to contemplate the earth with his own vision,
unencumbered, but never untethered, forsaken . . .
cannot grow brightly, steadily, into himself—flying beyond us?
Keywords/Tags: child, childhood, boy, son, growing up, maturation, puberty, adulthood, manhood, flight, flying, soaring
Apr 6, 2020
Apr 6, 2020 at 3:30 AM UTC
Step Into Starlight
by Michael R. Burch
Step into starlight,
lovely and wild,
lonely and longing,
a woman, a child . . .
Throw back drawn curtains,
enter the night,
dream of his kiss
as a comet ignites . . .
Then fall to your knees
in a wind-fumbled cloud
and shudder to hear
oak hocks groaning aloud.
Flee down the dark path
to where the snaking vine bends
and withers and writhes
as winter descends . . .
And learn that each season
ends one vanished day,
that each pregnant moon holds
no spent tides in its sway . . .
For, as suns seek horizons—
boys fall, men decline.
As the grape sags with longing,
remember—the wine!
Originally published by The Lyric. Keywords/Tags: step, starlight, woman, child, childhood, maturation, night, comet, moon, tides, winter, season, grape, longing, wine
Mar 29, 2020
Mar 29, 2020 at 12:10 AM UTC
There’s a knocking that I hear each morning,
a knock both a visitor and warning,
mistakes that invite themselves to my door,
mistakes that are not welcome anymore.
It’s not fear that makes me keep them outside,
nor the fatigue of further wounded pride.
I’ve learned enough what lies beyond my door.
It’s those mistakes I don’t need anymore.
Although I still don’t live life blamelessly,
I prefer to make mistakes namelessly.
Don’t package them and send them to my door
with my name on the label anymore.
It’s not that I should err and let it slide,
but I’ll never be perfect, though I’ve tried.
I know the sin that coucheth at my door.
I don’t need to bear their mark anymore.
Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 12:38 PM UTC
“Future me, I hope I’m pretty.
Right now, I’m extremely ugly. Fat, too. No one really likes me if I take away my three other friends. I understand why, though. Who’d go out with an ugly person? Hopefully I’m pretty now. So then, (if that time ever comes :|), when I get engaged, he’ll marry me because I’m pretty. And we’ll have pretty kids, unlike me. And I will make sure my kids don’t grow up feeling the way I do.
Life sorta ***** right now.”
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 8:34 PM UTC
i am constantly chasing love
or rather, the question of love
love is a question because it's never been something tangible to me
i've never held it in my hands
i was first approached with the question after an innocent 6 year old asked her father why mom didn't live with him anymore
"we just don't love each other like we did then" he'd say.
even then, she knew "love" had to be something important.
maybe i was pre destined to chase love, since i matured without loving myself
exposed to the harsh environment that is society, i wore no scarf or coat to fight the elements of self hatred
with every milestone, every minute mark, my heart grew bigger in anticipation
would love answer like the colorful pixels of a television set, dancing on my retinas?
or will it engage in a quiet, sneaky approach, like a tiger stalking its prey?
at first, hearing its reply sounded so satisfying
but the more i try to expedite love's response, the quieter it seems to become
i have many years to live, but no longer do i want to engage in this one sided conversation.
a question,
love will remain
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 10:44 PM UTC
Once I was
On top of the world
Winning at a game
That I didn’t know
I was playing
As I was cheered on
By eager fans
Boosting my ego
Skipping through the fallen leaves
And slipping recklessly
Through the dangers
Life handed me
Knowing
That if I tripped
Someone was there
To catch me
Before I hit the pavement
But all at once
I fell from the nest
Feeling lost
When I scraped my knee
And nobody was there
Holding a band-aid
Ready to fix me
I wondered
Why it had been so easy
To fall hard
With no broken bones
Or ugly bruises
But nobody had told me
That when I used to fall
It had only been
From Dad’s shoulders
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 3:53 PM UTC
I am the man who has seen affliction,
Neath the whip of God’s angry lash;
He bound me, drove me into seclusion,
Into the darkness beneath divine wrath.
He has walled me in, no more to be free ~
Heavy has he made my binding chain ~
So I cry to God from the pit with my plea,
But who am I to lift my voice to complain?
Like a bear in wait, or the lioness in hiding,
God turned me round to tear into my flesh,
Leaving my bones to lie in desolation abiding.
Is there any grace for restoration afresh?
Remember my pain! Consider my wandering!
And the jeering, sneering, wormwood and gall!
My soul will not forget, in shame ever bowing;
Yet hope, too, I have when this truth I recall:
That the steadfast love of the Lord never ends;
His mercies shine with every new dawning.
Even divine wrath the love of God transcends,
So till he redeems will I weep without ceasing.
For I called unto the Lord and, aye, he heard;
He heard from the depths of the pit my dying plea;
God came near to save me with His glorious Word,
Who looked like a shepherd, who said, “Be free.”
“For to free you I came, and free indeed you will be,
And do not fear, my child; I will always be near.”
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 8:56 PM UTC