Friday, May 2, 2014

Friday Original Poem

Does possibility require patience?

Or does it only require the quick jump before thought?

Impulse or reflex or maybe it is both open wide-eyed and blind?

Possible seems simple enough
like the thin layer of ground thawed
just enough to offer up a worm

The robin just returned
to find snow where dirt should be

The morning self-reflection
in the fogged up bathroom mirror

where you recite your daily mantra
accept yourself in the moment, unconditionally

That it's possible to get up off your knees
 to find release, forgiveness in an embrace

Possible is the poetry you breathe and each breath you write