>Long before I wrote anything, poetry was the medium I always defaulted to. I drew away from it for a while, but my roots have recently been drawing me back so I thought, here is as good of a space as any to share.
Finding Who You Are At Twenty-five
Freedom gained or freedom earned
To which extent have the people learned
Whose lovers should be left unspurned
As the jilted axis turned.
The life that’s left has left to give
The right to “live and let all live”
Right’s don’t hold in a human sieve
Tripping over pebbles, “Unite” “Forgive”
As confidence of breathing shatters
Tar beneath the tire splatters, ingenious beneath the pitter
“Where is Art?”The old man asks, his desk adrift between his tasks
And allowing in his gaze, I bask
Politely say beneath my mask-