Seattle

- The Seasons Of Grief: Chapter IV - Poem IV -

The air here burns,

Under the cruel Texas suns,

Moved from Fort Worth to Dallas,

I’m still on the run,

The dry winds howl,

The rolling plains stay the same,

I’ve traced every map on every highway,

Only to find no opportunity for fame

Late at night, I hear the pines calling,

Through the mist and heavy rain,

Where the earth feels more alive,

and can cradle my cracked pain,

Seattle’s soft grey skies,

A new love’s embrace,

Hold the promises of calm mornings,

Where I’m free to roam, as a god in space

I dream of the green seas,

Of the forests that sigh,

Where the storms kiss the rivers,

And the clouds crown the sky,

Texas, you’re so brittle,

Your heat’s a curse,

Each city I flee to is a mirror,

That makes it only worse

This asphalt is endless,

The horizon won’t change,

Dallas is always going to remind me,

How my heart became strange,

But Washington whispers,

Through the soft evergreen,

A life that I can rewrite,

A story that I can finally live and dream

Passed the Spring Orchard roads,

I picture where I’d be,

A cabin of quiet,

Just the pines, you and me,

No more sunburnt intersected highways,

No more sun that won’t yield,

Just a love that grows steady,

Like the earth in the morning dew fields

The dog days will fade with old me,

Dissipate like the shadows that follow,

I’ll leave Houston behind me,

And carve out my slate, new and hollow

The desert eyes will close on me,

Sand turning to mud that heals,

I’ll leave Dallas and Fort Worth behind me,

And start a new chapter, one that feels

The rains will baptize me,

Wash the guilt from my skin,

I’ll leave Texas behind me,

And begin once again