Taught to see the moon above
Taught to say sorry and thank you
Taught silence against grief
stoic intent but shattered whole
why cant I just discard the rules
hang my 'big'cot down the skies
ask the puppeteer to hold His strings still
while I toss His creation Topsy turvy down
after all am His child
why cant He just rock my cradle gentle
while I turn His art
postmodern turn, rock the world under foot
break His Rules
let the birds fly the night
rest the mornings
and tweak the moon with a single human finger
not in His sky anymore
but just below where I like to place it
so that at least I know
He had a reason to scorch my feet.
writing is stunning,different, complex, intellectual and tender, adult and child all at once...like the writer.Style speaks the man. good read.
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