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The Best Poem Of joy sherri

Michael, Mirroring The Lost Child

Nature, love and retreating
Seeking solace and forgiveness
Red hands, inked in echos
from way back when the
soul was just starting out
clean slate the robbers
took what they did and we
spent our whole lives getting
over it with music forgetting
and nature abetting, water
wetting and open spaces
letting.

I knew you from the shy
indirect no eye contact
glance glazed over like
black roses under glass
pained the sneak look away
too intense to keep steady
or to have scrutiny plummet
through the truth of you.

Common ground the distance
between us and them, the gift
of gentle spirit, the rough patch
of being too trusting, naivete to
a bloody pulp fault and hands
clenched when open palms
would have sufficed, and vice
versa when clout was called for.

Raw it was a life hammered out
gold and purple, there was never
enough and always too much
never feeling full enough but always
overflowing and many times flooded
My storms carried me through the East
Yours through valleys of the West
I'd peer through the cables and glass
to see how you were faring when it
wasn't too painful to witness.

I sent you silent prayers over the years
that you'd overcome the hatred
shown, giving you just a little more
power to move through, but it was
like you were a sailboat on a crash
course with fate without an anchor
or guide to carry you home.

Adrift, you were so
easily read and comprehended
by your fellow travelers
in the end it was drowning
not flying to your destination
and in that slow swallow
your slumber of intensity
going under, into your element
naturally the escape route.

Calamity its stark bold face
ice white trapping time
and a paralyzed collective
at the shore conjuring up demons
never destined to go
the distance or to save you
and in the waves of humanity
the faint echo of pain turned
caricature resonates within
brokenhearted chasms each
waiting for the sign that
it's time to go Home
without facade or fanfare.

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