In anticipation of life, In its waters lull, my thoughts may drown.
As if waiting were for a fool, it is the rhythm I have found.
In every loss and pain, do I believe to receive a crown?
Engulfed in a shoreline of suffering, will these scars be praised, moreover renowned?
A child, I lost my kite in the reckless wind.
Coupling my hands, my tightest grip, the storm I could not win.
Instead, my gaze became caught in the blustering of the skies bluest grim.
In effort to chase this love, I slipped, I fell, my knees I skinned.
The ground beneath me held no grace.
It was rough, unforgiving as I stumbled in its place.
I lost my childhood gleam that day, a smile-less face.
The clouds fiercely moved, you were gone, taken -without a sign, no trace.
Certain things as these hold no answer for stealing, nor resolve.
A fortress of foundation that exists with no absolve
My lips rest idle on mute, the hounding questions never dissolve.
Only to wait here on wounded knee, in hopeful prayer that this dream will take flight to evolve.
~k
November 6, 2012 (all rights belong to Keila Coate Womack)
