Afternoon Reflections

from 11.04.18

If I could be wind chimes and catch the poetry of the breeze, I’d echo through your late afternoon slumber and beckon you outside to hear the song of the invisible balladeer.

If I were a prism able to twist the light into a hundred colors, I’d throw kaleidoscopes on your walls and tempt you to dance with the long, latent arms of the sun.

If I were a wise man, I’d summon your unconscious thoughts and your unnamed feelings and return them to you as a gift so you might know who you are.

If I were a prophet, I’d send you a prayer like a dove in the nighttime, and it would rest on your shoulder so you could feel the hands of God.

But I have been given words and a proclivity toward the unknown, the unseen, the intangible. And I nourish a desperate hope that somehow I may be able to name the souls that are forgotten, capture the truth that has eluded us all, and learn how to hold the things that always slip through our hands.