Poem

The poem you’re about to read is highly imperfect, I realize that. Several words are repeated twice, lurking could be taken two ways… but I’m posting it anyways. Sometimes I think poetry is richest unexplained, still,  let me say this: I’m not presenting this poem to you for its poetic value, but for what it means to me. Maybe it will mean something to you too

No, it doesn’t matter
 wherever you roam;
this door’s always open
so come on back home.
You’re welcomed with gladness,
So come as you are.
Things are the same here
though you’ve wandered far.
 ¶                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              
Walk through the door now;                                                                       
the scent has not changed.
Your grandfolks are older,
but still they’re the same.
 ¶                                                                                                          
Prodigal or scholar
go out to the barn.
Memories are lurking
all over the farm.
 ¶
We still read the good book,
an’ talk of old news.
You may be different,
but these are your roots.
 ¶
We’ve missed you so much boy.
You’ve missed us too?
Welcome back to grandma’s
Where you’re free to be you.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   
Selah: stop, think about that, I cried after writing it, I don’t cry often. I cried because I’ve seen the other side of the scale. Acceptance is such a small yet powerful gesture. A fried of mine has this catch phrase: “Don’t judge me.” I’ve thought about that subject frequently; I’ve witnessed it in life. Judging someone isn’t going to help them change, but with acceptance you have a chance. It wasn’t until the night I wrote this that I viewed the results…the accepted are finally coming back and caring. The flip side? Conditional love strains relationships to the breaking point, it kills that fellowship, that trust which is so sacred. So, maybe poetry is better left unexplained, maybe not.  Maybe poets are better off after explaining.
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Categories: My Life, Poems | Tags: , , | 1 Comment

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One thought on “Poem

  1. Beautiful!!!!!

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