Washerwoman

Just as Michael chose

I must walk through the gate alone

Not knowing where I'll go

Only knowing it's not home

I doubt I'll find answers

That's for when I'm done

But waiting is either adventure

Or peaceful days I've won

I'm fine with being old

It's what we're made for

To spend most of our time

Slowly closing in our hides

Maybe my youth is done with me

Maybe now I'm really free

Maybe I can lay and sleep

And not wake with fear

I don't know anything

And that was once a fear

But now it's a sweet dream

Lighting the path true and clear

And the gold filters down to the leaves

The world breaks at the shore of stones

And my feet are bare

Soaking the water from the mud

I have never wanted anything

But to be warm, fed, and loved

Does that make me simple?

Of course it does.

 

◄ HSP 7

HSP 8 ►

Comments

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keith jeffries

Sat 19th Sep 2020 15:09

Collin,

This poem appeals to me more than any I have read in a long time because I can relate to it. It has taken the words out of my mouth. Well written and with wisdom.

Thank you for this
Keith

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