“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