A Narrative Poem
I met a flower whose petals were falling off
She asked me could I help her find them
We started searching the ground, thinking they would be close by
But there were none to find
I looked left, she to the right
But none were seen on either side
When I looked to the left,
My nothingness showed possibilities that innocence once held,
Dreams of grandeur in the sky showcased in a cloud-only visible to me
A driver of a lone ridge hits the rein on a horse who’s pulling a carriage piled high with a thousand smiles
I reach out to grasp one of my own
But the carriage moves by too fast,
Neglecting every unanswered question that has lead me to this desire for closure I’ll never find
I’m never the wiser about what’s on my right,
A flood happens at my feet.
I try to see where the water is coming from.
I look behind me and around me,
Realizing these wayward tears were making a waterfall that surrounded me.
I’m paddling alongside a perverted life that yields cultural distortions and many more contortions of what’s right and wrong
I start to drown,
Knowing I’m going under but never understanding why
My hand is outstretched but no one takes it
It was left there, extended, waiting for a rescuer
Someone finally reaches out their hand to offer assistance,
Rather, instilling a lifelong skepticism of bias and distrust
I finally turned to the flower and say,
“I’m sorry, but your petals aren’t here. They have all washed away in a sea of my tears.”
She smiled and said,
”That’s ok. When you find them, dry your eyes. My pistil is full and free and I’m happy. Your pistil has more petals to grow before you can have the same ability as I.”
