from the harbor. Baggage breaks me,
a trunk of communication, locked.
I want to sail on, move on, carry on.
Alone, heroes don't exist anymore.
Save me. Remind me of peace and joy.
Too young to leave, too old to cry,
the waves push me to foreign places.
Pressure builds a hurricane, beautiful life
and monuments, destroyed. Gliding
a paint brush, I wait for a miracle. I run,
a long race ending on the canvas.
I create the light. With every passing
breath I watch you dancing in circles.
Deidre Grotbo
