Half-Way

It fell down on me,
that Thursday after practice,
that I had been living halfway:
half painted portraits lining my cathedral mind,
high ceiling empty;
smiles hugging me too tightly, too close
to be real outside the locker room door;
coaches pestering like flies
that only travel towards the light–
and I remained in darkness.

I enjoy honesty.
It hastens all to be full life-
livers, not to eat ourselves half-
way, not to starve off souls
of the one freedom God hand molded
for you: your being, mind and body
yours
to be filled to the brim
with bright candles and moon-
colored lipstick and some soccer, too.

February 9, 2014

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