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Clearing webs from the hovel a blistered hand on the handle of a shovel I've been digging too deep, I always do. I see my face on the surface I look a lot like narcissus A dark abyss of an emptiness Standing on the edge of a drowning blue. I look behind my ears for the green Even my sweat smells clean Glare off the white hurts my eyes Gotta get out of bed get a hammer and a nail Learn how to use my hands, not just my head I think myself into jail Now I know a refuge never grows From a chin in a hand in a thoughtful pose Gotta tend the earth if you want a rose. I had a lot of good intentions Sit around for fifty years and then collect a pension, Started seeing the road to hell and just where it starts. But my life is more than a vision The sweetest part is acting after making a decision I started seeing the whole as a sum of its parts. My life is part of the global life I'd found myself becoming more immobile When I'd think a little girl in the world can't do anything. A distant nation my community A street person my responsibility If I have a care in the world I have a gift to bring. |
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