Of all the things I have known,
you give me the most to fear.
for you, I’ve shed the least amount of skin,
but drawn out the most blood;
I’ve grayed the least hairs,
but receded the highest number of my years;
I’ve been invisible & evidenced overcome &
out shun by every in-securing shadow;
only to shower in my own mud;
hand-wash myself dry,
start again & not show any damage.
knowing, of all the things I have believed in,
you give me the most to doubt.
while losing sight of the cues in the opening lines,
& blindly turning left through all warning signs,
for you, I’ve seen hearts beat for me lightening fast,
then soon ask for an exit pass,
leaving me the shortest of windfalls,
when trying to put forth my all.
hand-washing my fears dry,
tucking my doubts in;
so one day, I can start again & not show my damage.
while knowing, clearly knowing,
of all the things I have searched for,
what you’ve given me.
Mark Anthony Thomas
Copyright © 2011