Think bullying will break me to the
point of no return, but I drive into the
express lane. I begin to express myself.
This molds me into liberty. Get off
the Grief exit, turn onto Faith Street.
I buckle up my seatbelt, ride where
I belong, not focus on where my body
has been before. Misfortune is a lost
memory as I roll down the window
of this vehicle. My body recalls
the breakdowns and meltdowns, yet
I chose not to shut down. I do not
fill up on bitterness for my gas.
Forgiveness has become the fuel I
take in. Its fumes make the air fresh.
Traffic lights sometimes go from
green to red. Teaches me when to
give things a rest and pump the
brakes. Time is a tunnel I continue
to go through, learn my way
around. What I master, I share
for others to live their best life.
Poetry peddles me by its practical
steps. I cross the roads, the rhythms,
since I have the right away.
I uplift anyone who is searching,
waiting. Someone is looking for a lift.
Artwork by: James Ensor
