I get told I'm older now,
More wiser than proud;
My sweet sweet mama,
I really hope that's true,
If not for me than at least for you.
They say when lightening strikes,
Don't think of thunder
But instead... the light.
But how am I suppose to
When I cover my eyes,
Hide my face behind my knees.
When the palms of my hand are still not enough
To stop myself from hearing the thunderous scream of the sky.
It all seems so stupid
For I was raised in a country side,
Under village stars not city lights
And I don't even know my constellations.
If the sun almighty had to rise from north,
Now that's surprise
But somehow my mistakes seem a lot like new
To the old lament of my soul
And suddenly I'm silenced
Like the sky after the storm.
That was when the elders around me turned to face me
And spoke ever so slightly
And said that I finally grew...
I really hope I did.
YOU ARE READING
Tangled Tales
Poetry'Tangled Tales' holds a set of poems that relate to many lives and hopefully these may provide you comfort and let you know that you're not alone...
