Past Blues Poetry
April Blues Poetry
If Prayer Would Do It
If prayer would do it
If reading esteemed thinkers would do it
I'd be halfway through the Patriarchs.
If discourse would do it
I'd have translated the Periodic Table
to hermit poems, converting matter
If even fighting would do it
I'd already be a black belt.
If anything other than love could do it
I'd have done it already
and left the hardest for last.
Let no one keep you from your journey,
no rabbi or priest, no mother
who wants you to dig for treasures
she misplaced, no father
who won't one let one life be enough,
no lover who measures their worth
by what you might give up,
no voice that tells you in the night
it can't be done.
Let nothing dissuade you
from seeing what you see
or feeling the winds that make you
want to dance alone
or go where no one
has yet to go.
You are the only explorer.
Your heart, the unreadable compass.
Your soul, the shore of a promise
too great to be ignored.