Copyright 1993
Wander into the library.
Through the stacks.
Find me in the place you didn’t know you were looking for. brush the dust off.
Run your fingers-
down my spine.
See-
my tattered corners.
Feel-
the wornness of my cover.
Judge me by my cover. just know-
I’m not much of an artist.
This book before you doesn’t have a reading level.
You just need the desire to open the cover and take a look inside.
Some people
have taken good care of me.
Taken me home and cared so much for each word,
paragraph,
and chapter.
Others have dropped me in a puddle,
Held onto me for too long
Late fee after late fee-
With no one to collect.
While someone else is waiting patiently to soak-
in my stories.
I’ve had a ripped a page,
Or 5.
But
I’ve been put back together. and read-
just fine.
Check me out.
Take me home.
Read me for what I am not what you think I should be.
I am a book.
There have been many stories told.
Many chapters.
cliffhanger endings
characters involved that had to be written out
false peaks
heart breaking love
thrilling adventures
Don’t, just, skim.
Check me out.
Take me home.
Flip to the back.
Examine the index of my life experiences.
Look me up
Look up love look up pain look up the questions of life
Look for the times where rock bottom was hit
or for times of light.
Love me till my pages wear thin.
Fold my corners.
Underline me.
Write notes on the parts that resonate most
Fall asleep with me, with the light on.
Travel with me
Turn my pages over and over again.
And again.
Learn from the stories that hold wisdom and value.
Put yourself in the shoes of the narrator.
A warrior fighting battles
Just trying to win the war.
Fighting with love, kindness and words of affirmation.
Shining the shit out of the darkness
But remember
without darkness there isn’t light.
Read me outloud.
For the whole you to hear.
Learn from the stories
Let me take you out of your present reality and transport you to a
time where-
The wind speaks, where-
You are so blind that you have to see with your heart, where-
Curiosity didn’t kill the cat because there are 9 lives, where-
It feels like you walk on water with each fucking step you take, where-
Grey hairs are actually strands of wisdom and you best not pluck them, where-
Time doesn’t slip through your fingers like sand, where-
You are safe in your own hands, where-
Every dream comes through, because-
You are the author of your own story.
As am I.
Writing you into my story
To check me out
To look me up
To run your fingers down my spine and love my pages thin
To read me for what I am not what you think I should be.