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The world inside me
A poem for the traveler
You say there is a world inside of me but I’m not quite sure where to begin
At the icy poles, magnetic
Pulling between my heart and my mind?
In the deep ocean rippling beneath my skin?
Waves breaking into curves
In the vast forests that hold my body’s history,
Truth intertwining with hope
Leaves stretching to cover pain
And pull it back down into the wet earth
Near the sprawling grasslands that are my future,
Jetting from my hips to my knees
The horizon always appearing farther than it once was…
At least until I choose to look back
And honestly, looking back is a rare thing for me.
Forward, yes.
Inward, every day.
But backwards isn’t a direction that suits me.
Twisting my desert wrists to hold on to moments
But we all know how grasping sand turns out
The confident, incessant lake behind my lips?
Men brave enough to jump in, well, they are still trying to find the bottom
And then there’s the constellation of my eyes
Bright and inspiring; dark and strange
People have said that is where they get lost
What an obvious place, what an easy thing to say
Yes, there is an entire world inside of me and you’re still talking about the stars in my eyes
