For Oz

Take back the hope you gave me
Read between these lines that I feed you

Sing low with your baritone notes
That remind us of old songs with incomplete endings

Today I will learn to shape me
From thunder a poet shall blossom
Slowly one of us will rise
We will grow like everlasting things do

Will bleed when plucked
Will weep if wasted
Will sacrifice for fate
If fears of never reaching the top
Are realized while falling from a cliff
Gripping the root of anything that matches Heaven
Will almost die if neglecting the pen becomes permanent
Will survive after almost letting go for an instant
Filling every unforgiving minute
With sixty more seconds worth of going the distance
The same space that denied us the bliss of another next masterpiece

But… If I can keep my eyes on the prize
If I can walk with kings
If I can talk to crowds
If I can risk and lose and start again from the beginning
If I can hurt and come back stronger
If I can dream and not make dreams my demons
If I can draw the blade and follow through
With my rebirth that began as a teenage suicide
If I can trust myself long enough
To convince my jury to stop doubting me
If I can find paradise outside my comfort zones
And teach my shadow how to control the manic in my delusions
If I can remember to pray monthly, weekly, daily,
More often than I remember to do now
Sooner than two seconds before my next biggest emergency

Then I can give back the hope you gave me
Read between the lines of the last great poems you fed me
Poems that spoke of Momma Tun
Poems that spoke of Speaking the Word
Poems that spoke of Raindrops think their flying until they hit the ground

Maybe I can surround you with softer songs and everlasting beginnings
Maybe I can help complete the almost
You might have heard in your own words
Before you silently swore never to write again

Maybe you would care that tonight in this room
I feel the same way I feel on most nights I take the stage without you

Maybe you will figure out whatever it is you need
To help inspire you to breathe new words again

Maybe you will figure out who this poem is talking too

Then I can give back the hope you gave me
And you will find the urge to talk back
And tomorrow you will learn to shape you
And you will hum the baseline to this song
And you will hum the baseline to this song
And you will hum the baseline to this song

poem by Iyeoka Ivie Okoawo