Freya

I did not know my powers
and what I was capable of,
I knew there was a distant
figure of beauty who guided
me, who spoke to me from
beyond, and I wanted to believe

I was pushed out the door
at a young age and had to climb
for my life, the ropes were many
that tried to haunt me,
and the world wanted to chew me

You are a small town boy,
a class clown, a miracle deported,
an ugly mess, someone who
Should Not Be Here, and a dozen
or two thousand other small cuts,
scrapes, burns, and insults

I finally started listening to the voice
of a goddess, my Freya, who told me
what it was to be Odin, what it was
to wield a hammer, be a warrior
even open a bar, do something with
myself that was something

Something that would be and become
and grow to be more
Something that would give me
a strength inside, that same voice,
making me a telepath, or giving me
the ability to walk through walls

Who am I kidding? We do not need
such extravagances - all we need
is life, the ability to live it, the courage
to stand up and leave our homes
and enjoy our bedside table in between.

 

Wheeling, West Virginia

PoetryRuss CopeComment