It’s Not Easy Being Four, for Nevaeh (& her Grandma)

It’s not easy being four
When you go to grandma’s
With all those big people
Talking and laughing

It’s not easy being four
When your brother and cousin
Yell “Go away!”
Because you’re too little

It’s not easy being four
When you aren’t the only girl
Or the littlest one
Since your baby cousin was born

It’s not easy being four
When grandpa tells you to
“Pay attention” and “Slow down”
And “Listen” again

It’s not easy being four
When you try to keep up
But trip again, or knock something over
Because you’re still growing into yourself

It’s not easy being four
When you have something to say
But everyone is busy
And no one listens

It’s not easy being four
But when you sit on the couch
And grandma reads you a story
It’s kinda nice

They speak of angels

They speak of angels,
Blinding lights and
Silver wings aflutter,
Not quite flesh
They seem to hover

Protecting our offspring,
And the aged we ignore,
Shepherding believers
As well the doubting score

A dance without music
Of magic and mystery
A child’s dream
And hope in senility

But not disappear

Before you decide
To stroll down memory lane
You might want to consider
What lies behind

Like that patch of decaying grass,
By the river on the other side of the dike,
Where things unspeakable
And unforgettable evolved

You may find it has a power
That you had overlooked,
Or fear that became rage that begat confusion
Which dwindled to a whisper

But did not disappear

Everyone does

pilgrim, poet, prophet
i'd like to think
i have something to say
or, at least, somewhere to go

i'd like to think
a lot of things
about one’s worldly significance
especially related to me

yes, me
big surprise
another aging person
fearing an empty end

keep your head above water
don't follow the crowd
it all makes sense
but you forget too soon

everyone does
you'll get your turn
i'd tell you to get ready
but there’s really no way

breath after breath
step follows step
dust again dust
and i'll soon be no more