1:00am and I’m listening to country music
just trying to make sense of the road I’m walking on
because, man, there are no street signs, no directions,
no lights, no map
Is it okay to move forward when forward
is untouchable in the darkness?
I paint my past on my breath, my heartbeat
It’s as alive as if I’m living it once again
But today is a misty blur
and I feel blind and scared
I tell myself just keep walking, you’ll end of somewhere
But what I ask is this:
Is the future a hope that
the trees in the forest will be real
and the rains will wash away the mud
and an open door will appear welcoming me in?
Maybe I’m just a country song not yet written, not yet sung
Maybe I should just go to sleep
and wake up in a few hours
and begin the whole damn thing all over again
But maybe there are no answers
because if I had all the answers there would be nothing left
to ponder, experience, fret over . . .
And where’s the poetry in that?
StoryGirl 