Mine To Know Poem by Kurt Philip Behm

I want to play not manage,
write not teach

I want to drive—all controls in hand

I want to be like the rain across
the mountains

Not the river that may turn to sand

I want to be that sniper
with a single bullet

And not part of the infantry's trek

I want to be the first
to cross the tundra

Without needing a map to check

I want the bugle to blow
from my own lips

So others may advance and attack

I want roses free, to line
my front walk

Replanted from the garden out back

I want feet that will always
climb above

The timid and reluctant below

I want memories to follow me
out of this world

To a place that is just mine to know

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April,2015)