Poem #178 of 365

There is no one to prompt you,
there is no one here to lead,

when the footbridge stares
before you and it looks like
heaven on the other side,
there is no one to tell you
about men with machetes
and coups on county roads,
and the disappeared whose
ghosts walk these dirt paths
on darkened nights.

There is no one to stop you,
only you can compel
your feet to keep moving
in spite of caution in the wind,
only you can decide
there’s adventure ahead
with profound valor
awaiting your heart,

so you walk the plank
boards and you cross
the shallow creek and
up ahead
the grass is higher
than you are tall
but there is only one life
and no return ticket
so you say 'why not?'

There is no one to see
you do this,
no one to rise so early
and empty bad spaghetti
into the trash for city men
to collect at 8am,
there is no one else who
cares to do this,
no one else who should
caretake your life,
it is your doing,
your damn leftovers,
your chore to get done,
and there will be no fanfare
or cannonfire
when you do the work,
you must hum your own song
to bolster for this.

And there is also no one
now to insist on what you choose,
to point to the one on the left,
or the thing on the right,
there is only you to confirm
your chosen act,
and you must be alone
in your moment, there is no
witness who will prompt and
assign the next step,

There is only you in your pajamas
and your quotidian day,
redeeming and esteeming
from wake to sleep,
saying 'yes, this is how i
should do this, this is how
i should live',
and feeling so deeply
you're right.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez