When Hurt Will Not Hide
Oh to be that strength we see,
the smile, the bravado, the successful
pioneer of understood karma,
the world is my oyster as she would say,
the man might give a bravado to her sway.
Yet we all feel the pain when we cannot stand,
suddenly the weight of our reality is worrisome
as some way we decide we are exhausted in trial.
There by the sea we do notice the constant pull
the desire to know how soon would feel the lull.
I do grow weary of the ticking of a second hand,
that one that reaches beyond my own capability
instead it constantly reminds me of boots with straps,
the sort that walk me through an arctic vortex
when warmed by the fire, the soothing nature of survival.
Oh to be the one to know the cause of such fair smile,
then perhaps might a world beyond my eye be denial.