Authenticity
I’m flat on my back
Staring at the stillness of the ceiling fan
Listening to the noise get greater and greater
Feeling the silence envelop me
This is prayer of the purest sort
This raw exposure below 3 incandescent bulbs
Their light speaks vacant emptiness
Except “close your eyes and feel the nothing.”
I don’t want to.
I want this anger within me
To blow out of my chest
Spill it’s lava contents all over the bed
All over the floor
Slowly oozing out the door
New lands appear
New islands
Steam is still rising
In the cool of the moisture
It’s been so long
It’s been so long
Finally a truly christening song
Has been born from this pen
We always question what makes the men
We always answer it is the wind
The whispers of the lovely women on the sidewalk
I sense the teacher has picked up her chalk
I might need to be silent for this part of the lesson
I see green
Life sprouting in the rock
4/17/19
Songs From the River 