The Vow To Me Poem by Sarah Jane Black

The vow wasn't long or tainted with
Words dripped and clad of false enamor
They were tattoos -
Small scrawlings scuttled across my chest.
Incandescent to others but proudly pounding
With each beat of my heart

Not many know of the vow to you or I
It simply lies in glass walls that are no longer
Cool but warm with the energy that
Thrives from the vow

Tapping into it
I realized how long life was,
How substantial and twisting moments
In time are

I grasped a small thread of these moments
And felt the length of the silk vine twisted to the
Pulse of my breath
It responded back with promise

And that's when the choice of my decision
Was made before me—
The vow to me.