here’s to
the big debates
of my past.

I’ve answered most questions
for myself
through myself
and the words of others.

my own words
are reserved now
for braiding the hair

on the heads of
these children
I am bringing forth
and the ropes I’ll need

to trim the sails
and steer them toward
a safe landfall.

anything else
is a waste of time
I don’t have.

so silent now,
the old man by the shore.
but happy to be more than unaware
of the smoke from the burning towns

behind him, inland.
one learns, over time,
when to turn the hose loose

and learn another craft,
when to allow others to rebuild,
when he is not needed.

Blogged with the Flock Browser

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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