Poem

Long before I wrote anything, poetry was the medium I always defaulted to.  I drew away from it for a while, but my roots have recently been drawing me back so I thought, here is as good of a space as any to share.  

Finding Who You Are At Twenty-five

Freedom gained or freedom earned

To which extent have the people learned

Whose lovers should be left unspurned

As the jilted axis turned.

The life that's left has left to give

The right to "live and let all live"

Right's don't hold in a human sieve

Tripping over pebbles, "Unite" "Forgive"

Soundless

Wordless

Waging matters

As confidence of breathing shatters

Tar beneath the tire splatters, ingenious beneath the pitter

Patters...

"Where is Art?"The old man asks, his desk adrift between his tasks

And allowing in his gaze, I bask

Politely say beneath my mask-

"Under here."