New Life

For two years,
I let the words flow down my wrists,
and drip from my fingertips
to later be put into makeshift scenery.

For years I’d known
how to move forward in a life
that was only my own in my creations;
When my imagination was let loose
from the heavy lead in my soul.

In this time,
I spent many clock’s lives
learning and growing
through thick slabs of concrete
how to survive the impossible.

But in the months before now,
when I learned how to breathe
beyond the vacuum sealed soil,
it has come clear to my mind
that i do not know how to spell ‘freedom
without craving it.

I feel the pressure of struggle
was the only way to feed
a mind starving for release.

For two years,
I made these hands my only;
and now that I’ve traveled so many miles,
I’ve forgotten how to include it in this new life.


Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, available on amazon!
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