“Yearning From Wanting You” (Confucius Poem #2)

“It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.” Confucius

Slow.
Slow and rhythmic.
Slow, my breathe
puffing out the chant of my
gong ga-gong ga-gong heart.
Never mind about the rumors,
slow,
clear minded of wives’ tales,
slow,
not thinking
not thinking
not thinking
of what happened to
that girl
in the video from health class
you remember—
slow.
Trust.
A hand reached
and trembling
hopes accepted.
Slow.
Alright, maybe a little faster.
And rhythmic,
a melody
played in veins
the color of night
seeping through my window.
Slow,
the chorus sung
in strands of hair
closed in fists,
words echoing
against the rustle of—
slow.
Here we danced
to the beat of
an ancient philosopher,
our feet never
meeting the floor.
Slow and rhythmic.

Title quoted from Otis Redding’s song, “These Arms of Mine” (Pain in My Heart)

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