To My Parents

To My Parents

Like me

you like to be moved by words.

Poetry:

The voice of someone else

carrying you across the surface

of your life

pulling you out of focus

away from the mirror

pushing you past the single page

of accomplishments

you cannot seem to fill.

 

You

have wondered, like me

if anyone

anywhere

has ever been moved by you.

Maybe toward pity, you think,

Or toward gratitude perhaps

for becoming something more

than what you see when you float

back to the mirror.

You always float back to the mirror.

 

Beauty

has never belonged to us.

Nor have our words for it

ever arranged themselves

into art

and for this

you are sorry.

 

This is why you’d choose forgiveness

over love

if it were up to you.

But it isn’t.

 

 

DeMaris Gaunt

11-15-10

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