Poetry..#19..

I want you to understand to realize and comprehend that if ever you get lost

and the starlight that used to guide you is saturated in darkness,

I will be waiting patiently on the horizon.

I will man the lighthouse and polish the mirrors to offer you the most humble

guarantee that my light will shine bright enough, far enough

and for long enough that through the fog and black you sail upon,

your eyes will find my light and your ship can sail

home.

I hope you believe and trust and place your faith inside the fact that if

your feet find themselves standing upon unfamiliar earth, and the branches

are curling around you,

I will be waiting defiantly inside the deepest corners of the darkest path,

palm to the sky waiting to hold yours and lead you out.

I would build a bakery just to bake the bread just to break into pieces

so you always had crumbs to follow so when you look down at your lost feet,

you’ll find  the crumbs I left behind, follow them to me, follow them

home.

I need you to tell me that you, perfect in your stumbling and silent searching,

are waiting with hands outstretched for the maps I will never stop drawing. 

I crave the realization that my scattered scribblings and frantic X’s

marking the forgotten spots are being read by eyes still wet from the

sprinting down the winding paths I’ve inked upon those pages. 

I need those eyes to be your eyes and I need to know that you’ll follow

my instructions to the letter and to the exact number of paces when facing

due north so that the only X you’ll end up on is the one

I crossed my heart and hoped to die upon.

I’ll always man the lighthouse and I’ll never stop breaking the baked bread

tearing it to crumbs, and I will draw these maps until ink has run out

and I must finish it with the red in these veins, but they never will work

and you never will find home unless you stare through the fog for the light

and reach for your feet to pick up the crumbs

and lick your fingers to unfold the dry map

that’s been sitting in your hands all of this time.

~ Tyler Knott Gregson