Yes is patient, Yes is kind.
Yes chafes gently,
Burns the tongue with too much salt.
Yes gauges my blood until it is clean enough
For me to drive home.
Yes knows what I have done, and keeps silent.
I have broken Yes,
Made it my prisoner.
Yes used to hold its head high,
Now it looks up at me for answers
Because I’ve forced it to go so many places
It didn’t want to go.

 
 
 
I do hope that some special person who has or will attend the Old Ideas tour will post their pretty pictures on my Facebook page. Thanks!

This entry was posted on Wednesday, December 12th, 2012 at 7:23 pm and is filed under Rags of Light (poetry). You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.