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| A poem written and illustrated by me, Matt Morgan Dedicated to my late friend, Bob Duncan |
with things that when combined and put into conversation
were described as 'the world.'
Your own ability allowed for increased hope
and public expectation and when the world isn't a soft
enough medium for your hammer to be
absorbed, you live; when it breaks
and cracks with your fist, you live.
But the world is a ball of yarn, impervious to your falling iron
that bounces off, more forceful with the strength
of your arm, until your mallet's inertia turns on you with
a wicked betrayal
and the opportunity that was theirs is now
yours. And you will be forever the king of your world because of your
decision to do what only you and fate could. And your clenched
fist is only now relaxed, powerful in its absolute
inability, the strings of the hearts you pulled wrapped gently
around the limp fingers. The last fall of
the mallet that they once gripped vaulted you to where
you needed to be. In this, the hearts of the heartstrings
trust. In this, we are all warmly comforted.
That they themselves don't fray,
do not betray
our trust
in your decision."
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