Sometimes she comes in
crushing white-capped tidal waves.
Or sometimes she comes on
a gentle ripple left
from a fallen autumn leaf.
But she’s always a’coming.
She’s a’coming right now
as I write these fragile words
on this forgotten paper
in this fading notebook
sitting in this shabby cubbyhole
in my modest lil’ home
of my charmed life.
Change is always
breathing
down
your
neck.
She can be a live wire, sometimes.
A lot to handle, sometimes.
By folks like us, sometimes.
But don’t let her fool you,
her sometimes sultry looks
and whispered promises
sometimes seem so promising.
Sometimes,
she’s much more
subtly disguised
as a street corner beggar
begging you for some change
and your eyes meet
and you see
her looking back at you
in the bloodshot eyes of this
vagabonded version of you.
Change is a’coming.
Change is ablaze in your brain
as you feel its flame spreading
across synopsizes bridges
on the brink of creations
wonder and amazement.
Change is a’coming.
In a book . . . in a song . . . in a stroke of a brush . . . in a set of rhyming and complimenting words . . . in a perfectly timed twitch of the index finger capturing the beauty of the moment . . . in a movement in the arch of a dancer’s back . . . in the final scene of a barely seen screen adaptation of the book written by the author you love as the song you crave plays with words in verses that you painted just the other day . . .
Change is a’coming.
In a gentle kiss that lands directly on your soul’s cheek . . . in a close-eyed embrace from your Daddy’s little girl . . . in a soul knowing look from your other half of the sky . . . in this moment right here writing about the moments that change rode in on with vivacious tenacity and took her some new, and much needed ground and momentum . . .
Change is a’coming.
Change can come
in drip-by-drop erosions,
in imperceptible ways
when seen from day-to-day
but slowly and surely
weaves its way
into your life
in a canyon of grand proportions.
Change can come
in a cold winter’s breath,
killing you with chills that fill
each hidden and unknown crevice
leaving you frozen, broken
and alone.
Change can come
on the bitter bee’s stinger,
quickly bringing pain and fear
and a held back tear
leaving you unclear
on what you’ve done to deserve this.
Change can come
on a butterfly’s wing,
when the rocks and the trees
begin to sing
and winter seeds planted deep
begin to creep out of their skin
and take root,
flowering and blooming in Spring.
Change is a’coming.
Ready or not.