Self-Portraits / Short Stories

Highway 7: a poem

I am scrambling
heart beating
nails scratching
fur matting
to hold on to that
one thing
I once had
that one thing
we all want
to stand straight
to stand strong
to do it
our eyes wild
our tongue taught
our breath calm
we all know we
won’t go
we want it
deserve it
are owed it
that body
that mind
those thoughts and
those lines
I am scrambling
to keep clear
the path for
this one thing
it’s coming
I’m waiting
I’m waiting
I’m waiting
I’m waiting
I’m waiting

Andrea Wrobel

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s