“Don’t talk to strangers”
My mother said to me
But the stranger inside
Whispers so elegantly.
Ignore it but can’t silence
Over time drowns out my mother
As she sounds stranger and stranger
And the voice within becomes familiar.
Thorn in my side
Coaxing out the best of me
With weaponized linguistics
Moving like a flood
Churning like blood.
Long twisted corridors
Forgetting the way back.
Learning courage is not concerned with results
But only the attitude of the heart
Amongst daunting threats
And that faith anchored properly
Allows for some doubt.
Now ignoring the whispers
That never quite abated
For the songbird with truths instead of lies
Belts out harmonies so joyous
So majestic and sonorous.
I think my mother meant something different,
Perhaps “Don’t let people stay strangers”
Know them, converse and learn
Whether to continue friendship
Or let them slip through my fingers
Like coins no longer currency.
Trading thorns for crowns
Painful business that is
With skin grown over affliction
Yet worth it, every time.
– Vagabond Prophet
Vagabond Prophet 