“What do I know?” by Tami Boehle-Satterfield

compass

I used to know better,
I thought.
Now days, I think,
I may have misunderstood
The way it works.
Made up out of nothing.

Empty
Matters of right and wrong
Weighed heavily upon me.
“Wait,” I begged the sun.
Weight.
I felt the pull of the moon.

And for sometime,
The world turned over day and night,
Rolling on around.
While I stupidly tumbled
And blindly stumbled
Out of my mind.

For what?

Misguided by the compass
Tightly held in my fear filled fist,
Clenched with dogged teeth
And pressed upon my forehead
Like a paper star.
It shackled my feet.

Oh,
The weight of distraction.
Oh,
The wait for direction.
When all along,
I knew way better.

4/2013

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