The Train That Keeps On

It’s the sound of my fingertips

tapping against computer keys,

the sound of the wheels in my mind turning,

the sound of my soul churning out

words that flow,

prose

into poetry,

my innermost secrets displayed

on a Word document;

that is what makes my heart pump.

It’s the smell of country-fried steak and gravy,

creamy mashed potatoes and string beans,

filling this small house

while mom throws down in the kitchen;

that is what makes my heart sing.

And when I look up to the ceiling

and know that, passed it, is a sky

and the moon and the stars,

I know that my heart will just

keep on goin’.

These are the things that nourish my heart.

And this is important.

Because there was once a time,

when I wished my heart would stop;

I wished the sky would turn red

and bleed into nothingness

until I drifted away.

The skeletons of my childhood

claw at my skin,

keeping me awake at night.

But thank the Lord,

every night

this nourished heart pounds curiosity into my veins

of what tomorrow

will bring.

And the stronger my heart beats,

the harder I want to see

the morning sun.

So I will keep on typing,

filling the world with my muse,

with a mouth full of soul food,

pondering tomorrow,

taking advantage of the sky

that stretches over today.