Trajectory (a poem)
Having moved on, I remained
caught between obligation and fear.
Worn, weary hands now empty.
Inspiration sifted, removed by the wind.
Having moved on, I remained
caught between obligation and fear.
Worn, weary hands now empty.
Inspiration sifted, removed by the wind.
Remember the ones
you passed in the hall
never stopping to talk
or know them at all?
The awkward kid
who didn’t fit in
tried to make friends
but just couldn’t win?
The dream lost,
unraveled, unwritten,
to aether went,
in a moment forgotten.
Eternal the cost.
The silence is over.
The time has now come,
where no longer fearful,
our voices ring clear.
The beauty of a rose,
wrapped tight within the vines,
upon my trellis waiting,
just waiting for her time.
Bursting open, petals stretch
unto the light of day.
Exploding colors all around,
for Spring has come to stay.
Why do we employ pen and paper
or, having been given words,
dutifully put them to rhyme?
Why do we apply oil to canvas,
or form a masterpiece
with not but sound?
A heavy storm is brewing,
out on horizon’s line.
Panic sets as we worry how,
to prepare ourselves in time.
Heroes stand tall,
for those who feel small,
lifting their spirits to the sky.
Lost courage regained,
we move past the pain,
never again asking why.
I am a work in progress,
unfinished, incomplete.
Each day I grow in knowledge,
most learned here on the street.
© 2009-2025 E.L. Redwine