Poetry · Writing

The Voice in our Ear

The fallen watch closely

yet, mostly, they crowd our ear

words to tendered tears and flashes of fear

but when things get real

baby will split those fears

never alone

sitting together on our throne

but they still whisper.

Elusive to our eyes

and beating like our hearts

a workshop reminding us-

they path they walked

a how to guide of life

literature for months-

 

and we’re sorry in advance;

the present you gave us-

a map of a chosen path,

we’re not going to read this.

Map already filled with forks

already chosen. We’ll heed

but never follow.

Will make mistakes

but they’ll be ours

will make a right before a left

and it might be wrong

but it’ll be our right.

 

Will remember you-

flowers in hand

a loving kiss on stone

with grass in our fingers.

Will leave your map with you-

we know what you’re doing-

crossing out the mistakes you made

in the next life

but the crosses you made

were the crosses that made you.

Will sit here and sing-

and you hear with us,

singing in our ear.

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