A Mission from God or Something

I walk the same patterns about 3 and a half inches of black leather above the ground

My hips click into place, followed by my knees, supportive of my weight as I’m carried through the hills and streets of this town

This frown I wear is like an emblem of the past, wearing its grooves into my features, maybe it runs deep, but my smile lines are built to last

I’m walking fast, like I’m on a mission from god or something, these faces that pass don’t know any different, maybe they think I’m an Angel, maybe they think I’m something important, or maybe they’re just put off by the pace I keep while I’m chasing the daylight’s current

Either way I gotta keep moving, maybe I’ve somewhere to be that I forgot to write down, because you just can’t catch it all in your calendar when fate comes riding into town

When I’m walking in these grooves, a needle in the record, my same old moves, scratching at forever

I wonder if I’m safer in the channels that no one knows

Can I be that safe mystery, dark hair, purple clothes, sharp eyes, pierced nose, thick thighs, strong toes,

Carrying the weight of a world that’s only inhabitants are each vertebrae in my backbone?

I like to think about when I’ll stop someday, to put it all in perspective and figure out what path to take, but sometimes the future carries my breath away and I forget to lift my head toward the sun that shines on better days.

This evening is one of many

Much like the others it seems, but so far from anywhere I’ve ever been or dreamed

I see fresh faces and speak new words

Nothing’s ever really lost, tossed, or burned

But I do feel like a ghost at heart

How many times have I walked this earth?

Some days I feel tired, like a lifetime too many has piled up and I’m still trying to figure out what went wrong or what needs work, what needs rest or what needs completion in the karmic cycle’s turn

Is it my turn yet?

To take a seat, kick up my feet, crack the lid, and breathe in deep

Or am I still walking these patterns?

Shaping the folds in the street that will carry the next children’s chapter

Because it’s just one foot before another after, until a change in the day breaks into the pace of fate’s laughter

Somewhere between where I was and where I got to, my feet carried me, my brain worried me, but I made it home and back too

So maybe I keep walking this mission from god, carrying this head and holding these hands above, praising the space that I haven’t yet touched, trusting in the pace that’s always kept up.

August 28, 2022