I have learned to fly
to swim, to leave the stones
I’ve collected, dropped
where they fall, and I have
learned not to care.
I stuffed sadness inside
seashells and set them off
to drift away to foreign shores
I have razed anger and misery
to the hardscrabble where it
belongs, so get thee behind me
I pray to the Lord that He
will come to collect my garbage
My wings are older than
your patience and upon my
wings, courage that
leads to madness and
back to redemption again,
The dove flies over a terrible
desert where bells ring out the
psalms of men
©Ionwhite
