Insight

I could feel the poem coming,
forming somewhere like the tornado
that once blew over me in a dream

As we talked and my mind spilled all those details
all those moments where I couldn't see any clarity

At least I couldn't see what I didn't want to see

I always know what decision to make,
even when I don't make the correct one;
the direction taken is one I choose

and I know nothing means much when unexplained
I can't make you understand

Because I don't understand

and I still contemplate over the line outside my door
of people willing to be there
people wanting to hold my hand

isn't that all that matters?
to finish my story

I am much more than before

But the story doesn't end,
you see, and I rarely know why
I continue to be the navigator

The aviator without her wings
but somehow I manage to land

on my feet.


© July 2009