Come In! Support for the Lost Artist

// I get lost at least once a day

As I circle the park,

Leaves falling around me,

Catching in my hair.

I look up and praise God for the blue

and His bigness.

Me? I am small. I know it

Full well.

For I am fearfully,

Wonderfully

Made.

Yet, I walk the same paved path,

Sometimes twice, when I’m really feeling

The quandary

Of who I am,

Where I am going.

 

Small is a gift.

So is big.

As is wandering

And walking,

But sitting down and making?

Here I feel my fragility,

Face it head on,

Bump into a table,

A vase falls,

I try to catch it before I shatter

All over the hallway.

What a bunch of pieces!

And writing is creating,

Sometimes like me with Gorilla glue

Frantically repairing.

 

Today I see Shel’s words

On a table:

“Come in!” you lost ones.

You writers, liars, and thieves. //

You wanderers, dreamers, and hopeless hope-ers,

Come in—feel warmth of apple pies

Made together,

Books read

Together

Of laughter on back porch at ten p.m.

On Thursday,

Of shared messes of motherhood and making.

Lost moments,

And support,

The kind that knows lost is imply looking

For belonging, home, and hope.

 

Come in! Come in!

One thing:

When you go, do for the lost

What’s been done for you.

Again and again.

Our circling will straighten.

Our fragments will gleam in lamplight.

Where do you find creative support and inspiration?

This poem is part of the Five Minute Friday community. Our one wordprompt is SUPPORT. (// indicates the start and stop of five minutes).

For the Writer

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September 15, 2017