Its always felt like
I had to lance
it open; a vein,
to let the feelings go,
to bleed it out
as though
filled with fever,
unable to diagnose
what ailed me
but rather, now,
with old age
approaching,
wouldn’t it be
much easier
“just to say?”
to no longer allow
my tongue
to be tied,
or speak in circles,
parable, or rhyme,
but to say exactly
what I mean
to describe –
a feeling;
however intense,
however vague,
for all the words
to just float out of me
like a feather
on the wind,
is what I want
more than ever now;
in how the quiet
meandering river bends
with ease.