6-27-22

Lost in my wandering, afraid I’ll be found.

My shame now a companion, a way to stay lost.

A way to keep from becoming one of them.

As I walk away I can feel their vision,

I can hear their question.

Crossing another line, loosing another connection.

Stepping away from the safety of the crowd.

As lost as I am I can think of no-one I would trade places with.

They are very well, and I am very well.

That I may be harmless, that I may be free from harm.

I have no agenda, I love the truth and will not stop.

Looking for and finding my way back to my childhood disease.

Who is this child, who will speak for him. . .

As I wander away, I need their acceptance, but I love their rejection.