Poem: at the end of words...

at the end of words

I will never be that clever smile upon people’s lips

Or that realizing moment where they blink back tears

I am only that whispered sigh or wistful shrug that is found

at the end of words.

And like the grass, it is not my green that is missed in winter,

but the other colors I surround

Only when I grow too tall and proud am I noticed

and then cut to fit, with their intentions

I’ve been that bird with earthly wings who flew to close to the sun

feathers tattered, now raw and molten,

your gravity reminded me of my “proper” place

A corporeal impact upon my metaphor

But know that even with a single breath or glint of heaven’s light

I will find myself in currents, carried

by that possibility of becoming so much more

than at the end of words