Azimuth
The man who fixed my compass
told me half the same:
direction cannot exist
for those who cling to name.
For those who cling to place
I can offer only this,
half a word and half a grace
and half a home
that would not suffice.
Show no sympathy to the devil, or
to those for whom a broken compass
offers more advice.
The man who fixed my compass
told me not to die
and believe in an abyss
disguised as open sky.
For those who cling to home
I can offer only lists
of kind-of kids and every day
a beat too long
the year will not enlist.
So far from familiar face
you cannot cling to place, where
you will not be missed.
Author notes
A poem about travelling, homelessness, not wasting time and kids that grow up too fast. About having to sever ties with your home and start over, no attachments, and create your own life. About too many people I've met that lived lives no one should be forced to live at ages no one would care to think of. About too many people that were punished too much for too little.
Comments
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very good, again. I feel like the last half or third or something could be fixed... But you know its very good. Better than my stuff.
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wow the sheer loneliness of this write is incredible you really got the message across an excellent write dear poet
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and the kid's got talent
Wonderful write, provocative imagery and lovely rhythm. I'd read more right now but I so need sleep. Good job kid, keep it up!
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