METAPHOR

This is a poem that I wrote long ago. I was in a relationship with someone who, I found out a few months after it started, did not want me to be who I was. This person asked me to move in and I, being in love with the idea of being in love, moved in to the little single wide, two bedroom trailer. I had no idea, at that time, that this person did not like men in the least. This proved to be a problem because I had two boys and one was just about to come of age…become a young man.

So, I went where I thought it would be best, depending on the delusion that this other person had just as lofty goals and ideals and wanted to see me excel in all that I tried.

During the course of this relationship, I was talked into doing so many things that I really did not want to do. I found myself in a horrible situation where I was coerced into doing things in the legal world and in the world of the heart that I knew were mistakes from the start. Yet, I thought that it was all for love. Turns out it was all for power. It was not healthy. I regret nothing, however because I learned from it.

One day, while sitting in a truck, waiting for this person to finish a transaction of some kind, I saw the most gorgeous clouds, forming a thunderstorm. I could not help but cry, seeing that my relationship was just as hopeless at the shapes those clouds were taking and then losing. Nothing was set in stone. My tears fell….

METAPHOR

 

THEY FLY

THEY FLOAT—

                                           COLLIDE WITH EACH OTHER.

                                    ONE COVERS ANOTHER

                   LIKE A LOVER.

 

                                         THEY FORM OUT OF NOTHING,

                                               STRUGGLE FOR PERMANENCE—

                                    COVER THE SUN

                                    LIKE A HAND OVER MY EYES.

 

                                    THEY LOOK SO SOFT

                                                YET THEY CAN DEAL A BLOW

                    THAT KNOCKS ME DOWN…

    I AM ON MY KNEES.

 

                      THEY BUILD ON THEMSELVES                        

               AND FILL UP WITH VIOLENCE        

 CASCADING UPWARD.

                  REFLECTING THE LIGHT

THEY EAT IT AND CAST THEIR SHADOWS.

    THEY DROP THEIR SEED AND

 FLOOD THE WAY

                                 LIKE MY TEARS.

                                   …THE CLOUDS…

                                                        …MY TROUBLES.

 

 

COPYRIGHT JOBETH SEXTON

 AUGUST 6, 1999 – 2012

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