Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Poem by Grant Hansen

Pushing through the painted wind
F
loating toward my epitaph
My soul sees you and checks its mettle
All thoughts get tangled, then disappear

Ancient questions almost answered
Scribbled in my angel's blood
Each page a new feather
Each sentence a bit fainter

Treetops dance in violent winds
tell me when the end begins

I see time and fortune's fate
And obstacles that I can bend
Perhaps I've waited much too long
To push right through and risk it all

The spotlight's dim to all but me
I long for night to shine my way
Like tulips crumbling in summer's sin
I lose my head to too much light

To touch the pain of arrow tips
Smell the blood and take a sip

Painted faces with crooked brows
Fall backward into ideals
Why show me crystal skies
When I much prefer the ground

The sheep are sleeping counting lies
That truth just can't defend
Worlds collide to find me weeping
So hurt me if you must

Wind chimes numb till time rings on
And wonder what the cause brings on

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