Thought I would share another poem that I put together. Lately, I’ve been meditating on myself and what gives my strength. Naturally, love–both God’s and my family’s–sits foremost on that list, but writing comes very close after. With that in mind, I wrote this:

Syntax

Phonemes crisscross
my injuries,
binding ragged-edged hopes
fraying into doubt.
My self fluctuates,
brave and cowardly,
forgetting and forgotten,
much and nothing.
I cannot see tomorrow,
hidden amongst definitions I have not learned,
but I can find amongst the world’s tongues
syllables enough to render it in my voice.
A canvas of my imagining
wrought by every letter
I have ever learned,
arranged a hundred
million
billion
ways–
once for each of us
and then once again for who each of us wish to be.
I cannot explain tomorrow,
but I know enough eternal words–
hope, love, faith–
that I can believe tomorrow
will be a day I write
I speak
I sing.
That when I do, tomorrow will listen.