Pinocchio

on May 29, 2013 in Poetry

Long is the trek from darkened wood
to child small and pine
that laid between a father’s hands
are shaped to mirrored features of undeserved reflected divinity

Unrelenting are the fingers
that with unrequited care
carve and fashion immortality
and fasten to that fragile frame gifts of incalculable worth

What a reward I must be
poor cut-stringed marionette that I am
for all your so precious hours
and invested hopefulness to have only inadequate thankfulness returned to you

That so undisciplined a first unled step
should towards mischief stride
and keep unkept time with disrespectful marching
so eager to escape the woodworkers shadow that out to nowhere
frantically my footsteps sped unknowing that, like the inescapable nighttime dark
is the expanse of lightless land cast by the bright upon your face.

And to think that
in my flight from that cool shade
I could not hear your thunderous
voice that to my rescue raced to purchase back at your own expense
the price I’d freely paid

Then, swallowed whole by a gaining dark
as your footsteps fell behind
the Ivory, arched, and biting teeth monstrously owned
I felt the burn of the unleashed sun that cooked my wayward skin

A bartered pass into those jaws
for I could not stand the heat
I bought a place beside you
as you shivered sadly looking down the lonely road
that stretched beyond my seeing to a place I could not go.

Here I’ll sit so near you
and in these hours keep you warm
this alone am I fit to give as you leave me for the storm
to fight the chill as moments fade and the cold comes creeping in
and bravely, proudly, rightly, set a fire to my skin

For never was their recompense
for your love unpaid, unearned
but to be the comfort no other can give, and to bring a little light
to one whom I’ve done so wrong
a happy thing this blaze will be
for a little boy who won’t be good
will gladly be your fire wood

 

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