I Was Born Into…

I was born into a porcelain sink of love

Second-hand oakwood furniture

A bed of stark white

Inside an apple box worn

Born into…

Best friend

A rusty sweet dog

Where beneath a willow tree

Loneliness was shaded

And imagination bloomed

While fingers explored a soft red coat

Ventured onto…

Railroad tracks to unknowns

Sidecars of freedom

Fishing holes of surprise and disappointment

Graduated into…

Kitchen fragrance of Mother’s baked bread

Steaming pressure cooker of greens

Plastic covered chairs

Where from tilted Formica table

Truck oil and grease

Wafted up from a backdoor entry

Of Dad’s each night arrival

And his soiled hug

Is to this day

Missed.

Stumbled into…

Identity crisis

Found stage for solace

Where greasepaint odor

Dripped into hot light remembrance

And shoe polish gray

Was young adult fun awaiting reality

Today…

I am born of experience unique

Identity secured

Where a mate’s love melded my re-birth

Into

Feeling

Seeing

Hearing

Knowing

Gratefulness

For…

To be born

Is precious

But to not risk living it

Is death

Perhaps…

When time starts to wane

Our existence is most alive

Reawakening to a new possibility of form

Destined to explore time and space

For its next birth