what do i call something that’s just like all the others?
By david On April 27th, 2007i wrote this poem in 10th grade–10 years ago–but it still feels pretty apt to what i experience in my life everyday, so i’m posting it again, rather than rambling on about the things i hate and how i’m sick and tired of life. i’m tired of letting people down. letting my God down. i want to be folded into safety, but that’s not coming for a long time, and i’m impatient. so impatient.
the stinging desert wind,
steadily rising as if urged on
by an higher authority:
biting, it is hurting me–
can i trust it, or will
i be abandoned?
like the blanket too short
for my bed, the truth never
entirely covers my contorted
body, convulsing in an attempt
to realize its message, screaming,
sweating, it won’t find me
can i become? what?
help me, i must succeed…
when i was younger, though
still i am, wandering, searching;
help me. allow the fall to be
cushioned by the softness of your
Power.
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