Open Mic

Open microphone (mic) night at the local coffee shop may be worse to experience than karaoke with drunken strangers. But, alas, here I go subjecting you to my own open mic. I know it is a little new age and eccentric, but writing poetry is a little chocolate for my consciousness. Endure. Enjoy.

 

In a Breath

 

Inhale…

It is still winter.

The sun dips low beyond the horizon and falls off into the opaque grayness of the Pacific Ocean.

I rush to catch it, but miss once again knowing that night is creeping in.

Darkness feeds my cynicism and sneaks into my heart.

Still as the great white before the feast, I scan the blackness for an opening.

Where can I run to and hide?

Who will show me the way?

Which way am I going?

Clambering for help, I reach for a shred of light.

Fingertips extended, hoping for a break from confusion and longing

I see it

A glittering sliver of shimmer in the distance

Rushing now, breath shortening, legs tiring

Reaching exhaustion

Anticipation mounting

It is here

I touch silvery salvation

Is it a hiding place?

Is it morning?

Is it light?

Is it someone to help?

Clear, smooth, forgiving, but also reflective and knowing…

It is…

a mirror.

It is me.

Exhale.