9 of 30

You will never save the boy who

lit his house on fire

build yourself a boat

when you reach a new island

let it go

there will always be abundance

if you learn how to pray

and dance every day

even if it is a messy dance

you are too young to forget laughter

you are too old to be serious

you cannot save the man who wanders around

with his eyes

but you can grow roots

and spread your fingers to the sky

I write poems because I am afraid of being


or maybe I write poems because the ink would

pool under my fingers if I didn’t let it out

let it out

let go of the people you cannot save

and learn to swim

your beauty will set the nations free

laugh more

be indignant in the face of injustice

soak in what you love

the young ones will rise if the young ones

will listen

I can will this

and be small

close in on myself like a flower at frost

the world a ball of yarn


and wander around

don’t let go of the string

your pile will not be a straight line

your words are keys

and machetes

in jungles of locked doors

learn to speak until ribs

crack open

hearts are houses hearts are doors hearts are muscles made to work

my beginning was in the kitchen pink tutu shining eyes

your beginning was in the back yard under the oak tree

we choose our stories one drop at a time from our oceans

of never dry up


About amyleighcutler

Writer, dancer, vagabond extraordinaire
This entry was posted in 30 in 30, Poetry, Writing Tips and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s