I try to follow the rules,
Somewhere under the rubble.
I make no waves, waste no tools,
Keep my nose out of trouble.
I try to parse all my words.
In step with syntax and scene,
Weaving tiny bits and blurbs
To reveal the wondrous dream,
But some levees are overwhelmed;
Small breaches opening rivulets into rivers.
Words burst forward like sharp laughter, pour like tears,
Heal like salt in the gaping wound,
Sit in awkward silence.
All these years, these thousand verses,
Can’t reverse the flow of time, can’t divert
Its fearsome force- rolling on remorselessly.
Throwing myself in the sea, it carries me- flowing free.
Words don’t dry the bed, but try treading alone.
I’m grown, but each syllable sown blooms-
It blooms before it dies.
I try to give these words their room,
Sometimes even a nudge or two,
What they may say, I don’t assume
Until the tide rises again,
Until the lyric breaks through.