Picking up Pieces
Picking up pieces in the morning
That were left hurriedly the night
Before doesn’t ring the same
Expected tune.
Tell me about the times
Such things happen to you.
I’m looking for a universal
Validation to make me normal–
The sun warms without staining
Nor straining the eyes.
Picking up pieces of yesterday
Left behind, on the side of a forlorn
Road long forgotten like a driftwood
On a strange shore looks for a common
Thread—How I got here that continues
To haunt today and tomorrow.
I pick up the skeletal driftwood
Memories, bleached, broken morphed
Into whatever the life demands to do
Or to be, but it still has its own dreams,
Even though it doesn’t look
Like it has much to say.
Ask me about the time
When the bitterness buried
Itself on the grave of dreams.
There are no words to parse,
Let the silence speak.
Yenna Yi
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SHEDDING SNAKESKIN
When young Now too old
Wild child Pot bellied,no longer bold
Tattooed twenty then I Ride astride
Riding Wild Three wheel Trike
Pseudo Zen Scanning wrinkled wrist tattooed GPS
Straddle fast roaring motorcycles On weekend Senior bike hike
On less traveled roads Peace Pagoda pit stop
Along hairpin curves of To spin the wheel of life
Bandanned leathered women Curious :will I be or not
to sing aloud: Be a butterfly or moth .
Then see on the tatted wrist
Of the Sleeping Buddha:
“Don’t you wanna “Do you really wanna
Find somebody to love?” Reach Nirvana ?”
Frightened by the terms of Enlightenment:
“Renounce Greed, Hate and Ignorance”
In dread, I fled, sped, spun out
Of the Circle of Everlasting Love
Three tires spinning in the mire
Of ambition, flesh, blood and desire
Caught in my childhood Catholic fear of eternal
fire
Steeped in being only and always a self-
centered “I AM “
I ran.
Geo Cernada