Sacrifice

Dec 2

If I was a man, I’d be in love.

Maybe not with you, or anyone.

But love has its way of finding you,

When you stop looking for what's true.

So perhaps it will find me when I've given up to the salt of the sea.

Or maybe my toes will find it in the fresh green grass under my bare feet.

Maybe I’ll fall in love with the ceaseless work of the forest.

Or a labor-sore body and the morning’s sun after a rest.

Maybe it’ll smile back in the mirror as I restore grandpa’s old Chevy truck.

Or hault my hunting eyes as I steal a fleeting blink of a buck.

Maybe I’ll turn hate into love in an iron forge.

Or I’ll find ecstasy in the dripping apple’s juice, as I gorge.

Perhaps I’ll learn to love the sweat on my back.

Maybe then, I’d actually sleep when I hit the sack.

After love finds me, will I be happy not to live so fast?

And will my cracked hands finally show the story of my past?

But, alas, the questions are void, I’m not a man yet.

I’m still naive, learning how Nature’s ways are set.

And you.

I know you feel fully mature.

But you’re still a sapling,

Despite your lure.

So, my darling, as far as I can tell, we’ve got a choice.

But it’s a hard one, so don’t be rash.

Either we part ways, and stay young forever,

Or give in, and grow up together.

But time’s a funny thing and some nights it slows to a tick.

So let’s catch the twinkle in the stars and ask them what to pick.

After all is done and the sun rises, we may finally know the price.

And when the birds stir from slumber and bring morning again,

we’ll truly know

what it is

that we

sacrifice.

Run of the Mill