03 May Poem for A Rainy Day
Assaulted at birth, a strike stings me awake
From then on like a baseball on a leash, tethered to a post
I am flung across time, bruised by each blow, wounded but still connected.
How many failures do I hide?
Each one buried in a dormant garden
Where no light reaches rotting roots.
So much courage, enough for a million fits and starts
As every noble stand sends me reeling back, each a
solitary effort of a madwoman, refusing dirt.
How many losses of the desperate kind
Flesh wounds first,
Each new loss digging like a spade
Spreading mourning deeper into fear.
Yet, every strike
Frees me too, until I am unleashed
To float where all strikes miss their targets,
As you cannot hit the air and split a spirit in flight.