To steal injustice
from the eyes of a child
And place it beyond their sight
Is to save today,
when tomorrow is gone
The future—blinded by fright
The Truth Commands
Yes, I’m a Poet,
but I refuse to be conscripted
I refuse to be a victim,
my words made out of stone
I refuse to bleed my heart out,
on a page of blank simpatico
I refuse to give you weakness,
knowing strength you have disowned
Yes, I’m a Poet,
but my sword is sharp and pointed
My shield is scarred and colored
with the blood of firebrands
My breath won’t plead while shouting,
every name a future conquest
My pen in hand, a weapon sure
—its ink the truth commands
(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)
\'Children’s Hospital Of Philadelphia: November, 2016\'
The Only Thing
In the end…
the only thing left
—is what gets remembered
(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)
Jailer To This Dream
A prisoner of my poetry…
a captive of this chair
The air I breathe connects me fast,
this corner now my lair
I take my meals here sitting,
my sleep in naps between
The written and the spoken word
—both jailer to this dream
(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)
Beyond Your Grasp
One of life\'s challenges
is to find your own speed
Where travel is constant,
destination in sight
Too fast,
and yesterday abandons your future
Too slow,
and memory stretches beyond your grasp
(Airplane to Richmond 10/14/2016)