Everyone has shadows.
Each person you meet.
No matter where you go, they are always there.
Darkened outlines of the people you used to be.
They define your every sunny day, when all is well.
Their shadowy characters still have a role.
Cast behind you, waiting for the sun to shift,
So they can be seen and can steal the show.
On your darkest days when your falling apart,
Don't think for one second they're not around.
You don't realize they slip on like a coat
When the struggles keep coming and your shields are down.
Some are masters of their shadows.
They choose when they are seen.
They've learned to hold their sun in place
To keep their shadows beneath their feet.
Others seem unable to gain that skill.
On sunny days, their shadows reign.
Their sun rises and their sun sets,
With 5 different shadows each with distinct shapes.
From my widow seat in a small café,
I watch the people in this busy town,
People rushing here, shadows rushing there,
But there's a young blonde lady I've singled out.
Her head is down as she looks at her phone.
Standing at the bus stop across the street.
It's not just her stillness that catches my eye,
But her shadows no one else seem to see.
There are 5 shadows that branch out from her feet.
The lightest shadow, the hardest too see,
Is the shadow of a little girl, 6 years old.
Her younger self, dancing and twirling about,
Free of the burdens her future self now holds.
The next shadow is running.
Her hall of fame shadow from her high school track years.
Her pride and joy moment in all her life.
When she was fit, and her future was clear.
The next one I saw was not one, but two.
One was light, the other blacker than night.
The dark one sat on its knees
With the lighter ones head in her lap,
I watched the black shadow throw its head back and scream
As the other shadow faded, and disappeared out of sight.
The scene of the two shadows repeated,
And I soon realized what happened.
A young teens mother caught in the crossfire of a drive by
Whispered last words, then her mom closed her eyes.
The next one was the shadow of a fighter.
Her stance was grounded firmly.
Duck, weave, uppercut.
The only way her anger's relieved.
The last shadow has its back against a wall,
It leans around the corner for one last check.
Arms down, gun pointed at the floor,
And the outline of a badge hanging round its neck.
I was a little disappointed when her buss pulled up.
Took a sip of my coffee and watched her disappear into the mass of passengers.
Everyone has shadows.
Each person you meet.
They either break you, or shape you.
Destroy you, or change you.
What will you decide?
YOU ARE READING
The Only Exception...
PoetryThis is a collection of poems. They are about love. They are about life. They are passion, Motivation. They are words for the soul.
