Surefire

your worn out shoes
fill what used to be
an empty closet.
now, you share them
with those of us still
learning to walk upright
with confidence
and you warn us
to be present in
a world that wants to
erase us from its skin.
but, how do you
remove a permanent fixture?
the walls creak, they whisper
in the wake of
trembling uvulas, hanging
on for dear life
a common piece of
advice given becomes
monumental, soothing in
its form.
the act of listening
is Hearing 101, with each
lesson taught, you suggest
choices, reminding us that
we still have them.
in your crowded mind,
you make room for
stubborn kinship, but
remain adamant about
your space.
it is a gift that
keeps on giving.
we are either going
to crawl at your advisement
or run before we can.
our immature legs breaking
from the speed —
you do not point fingers
or shake your head
in dismay.
you calmly suggest
what was taught on
a moonless night, sure
that we’d remember.
your love is free
of I Told You So
and when we move from
our tadpole phases, eager
to leap into the comfort
of adulthood,
you smile.
the sky signals your
happiness — opening up
to rain down on dry
land.

