Here I Sit

My heart screams to understand
what was placed in my hands.
When I'd burrowed my way out of a pit,
to find a wave and roll with it.

Perhaps a silver lining in a dark cloud;
perhaps merely a flash in a shroud;
whatever it was, it made me smile,
like I hadn't in quite a while.

I wonder what it might have endowed
if it had only been allowed,
but the brew of others' voices and tales,
seizing its flavor; rendering it stale,

and timing--another link in the chain;
If I'd had time to wait out the storm,
could I have danced in the rain?

Here, cast out and left to think;
alone with just my good friend, ink,
I plead with myself not to wonder,
and the carpet sweep this under,
yet, here I sit...

September 5, 1997