by Nyesha Wood

Created on: December 05, 2008

To Heaven with Polluted Eyes

Unkempt and accidental in the beginning,
thick blades of dew-punched grass often softened
the blow of a misspent youth.
My stature so common, I was tilted in existence
for the clouds to peer, shiftlessly, at my meekness.
A once narrow world now so vast, as a child I was
indigenous to the unlikeliness of prosperity.
Longing for roots, yet always the plotting, un-potted
seed, I fortified my envy of anchored people.
My introduction to this Kingdom of man ill prepared,
I was free to haphazardly choose my own restraints.
A life carried around in unraveling pockets,
spare sense jingling 'round the toes of strangers.
To Heaven I look, always with polluted eyes,
not knowing what awaits.
No chaos amongst turbulent memoirs,
no discord, only knowing and a necessary parting of
wills, ways, and worries.
Outside the gates I will wait, with polluted eyes,
and dashed faith.

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