Stranger

I am a stranger to this life.

This imposter 

Wears all the wrong clothes 

To the banquet

Speaks a

Language I understand only

Dimly that says

Get to work.

Save your money.

Don’t talk to strangers.

The language I speak is one

Of animals,

Of stones full of

Stories told by

Turquoise, malachite,

And fools gold.

Mute chairs

Even musical instruments

Reveal their secrets as

I turn my gaze

From the flames

Of disappointment

To peripheral

Expectation. 

Imposter with a pass

I roam the dark streets

Looking for the door

That always waits.

I see what has

been in front of me forever

and pick up the hammer

I will need to

Shatter the jar

Holding all

Coins of my birthright.

This is the way.

I have been waiting

Growing old

And slow

Utterly and brilliantly

Embarrassed.