Trapped By Autumn Poem by James Lee Jobe

Trapped By Autumn



I was born three thousand bumpy miles from here,
and with a different name. I want God to be a wild god
of fire and walk in flames on a still and silent world.

I want that world to be washed by yellow sand
in the autumn wind. When I walk on that same world
I want God to notice me, to feel me.

Sentence me, Judge! To life or death, to years
or memories. I sit in empty rooms, white with quiet.
I read scraps of paper that were scribbled on by thieves.

It is practicle to change my name, my blood.
It is practicle to live with fire, wind, and memory.

I am a person without reason. Is that troubling?
I look for the perfect circle without really thinking
I'll find it! Who is the fool here?

The wind is a lone herdsman, here to drive
the summer away. The old cat crunches on her breakfast
amid dry leaves and debris. Only reluctantly

will I close all of the windows, to be trapped by autumn,
to be unnoticed by God.

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