Wherever you go,
always bring yourself–
yes, you–
lock, stock and barrel.

And a combo
or a key
to open or close you
as you need,

to honor all the qualities
and parts
you’ve grown up
lovingly from seed–

even those so stalled and lulled,
at turns that were so poorly paved,
they came to strive and grieve
so much
that they had shrunk to sterile,

cared for right there
beside the ones
that ever grew
so vibrant, lush and vital–

the gardened
and the civilized,
not one whit more
nor less thus prized

than those
who white-hot trails blazed,
each in its distinct, brazen way,
the sight, a wondrous bright display,
with hearts free-form and feral.

This entry was posted in Medium Length Poems, Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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