A Baby's First Cry For Air

Written by R. Bailey Allen

Thursday, 05 November 2009

A new poem... A BABY'S FIRST CRY FOR AIR I've raised a glass In a selfish toast... skipped to the end, too fast, when what mattered most was going through the motions... yeah, oceans couldn't keep me from my pearl. but my treasure lost it's measure in my hand; once I held it tight I'd tossed it, crossed it from my mind, caring not where it would land caring only for my next shimmering mirage of contentedness... I was restless with my words that flowed as though I was sure of myself but the only thing I was sure of was my ability to fool the fools & elude the radars of the wise long enough to make excuses conducive to getting me off the hook before the fish mongers did... the fish mongers who'd fillet my belly and show the real me beyond the facade & facsimile & campaign promoting me as the next best thing since the last best thing went sour & devoured the mainstream thought-waves in a tsunami of of translucent agony... I was what I was not because I refused to become more but I was because I thought that what I was was enough to keep me through the winter of my discontent & the night's I'd spent alone paid for my tomorrows with a possibility... I was alone because my eyes were closed because I went against what I was supposed to do to be, to believe in...on the surface I was side-show-circus man-with-two-heads, man with more than meets the eye 'cause eye is flesh and cannot glimpse beyond itself to see the ripples in the pond... I was half of what I should have been but that was then & now is now & somehow...someone...somewhere... is going through the same smoke-filled corridor looking for more & I'm not there to tell them "Look beyond more"... Words, grow wings and flutter on their heart-strings 'til their eyes sting with regret & their souls sing for what's yet to come... With a baby's first cry for air. ir.

 

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