poem: On the Precipice

On the Precipice                   by Joel Howard

 

Living where

worry wrestles with pain and

chaos rules the hours,

I mightily stretch myself tall, yet

my soul never quite touches earth

now nor never did,

with no belief in tales of wine and water

or bushes afire, I’ve no harbor

anywhere here

 

Better a children’s book of talking

trees and smiling meadows

flush with bunnies in flight for me,

parables never to stifle a dream

but to launch them far into orbits

beyond our given realms

 

Leave the tamping menace of guilt

of any kind or measure

in a corner dark and impenetrable,

let wishes periscope to the sky

and find counsel there among

countless stars and moons

 

All might then rejoice in the breadth

of fantastical creations

and bathe ooh and aah

in knowledge of a

river flush with yet dreamt joys.

 

 

Speak now, my friend...