My Fingerprint Poem
I See the
Wisps of Smoke
They Curl and Disappear
Slinking back into the Night
Leaving Behind a
Burning Book
It is the
Story of My Life
Not for You or Me to Read
It is as Vast as
The Ocean
Determining
If I’ll Sink or If I’ll Swim
It is the
Whirlpool that Sucks Me In
Swirling Nightmares
And Desires
The Things that Make Me
Me
It Contains the
Rolling Hills
Where My Ancestors Lived
Curving Underneath
They still Sing
It Holds all those Before Me
Their Footpaths
Their Journey through Life
Through our Precious World We are
Intertwined
Unaware
Which Direction to Turn
For it is But A
Mystery
Our Soul
A Web of the Past
It is but A Book
Burned and scarred
Lifted and Rejoiced
Unread and Fresh
Awaiting at Your Fingertips
Like so Many Little Things
It’s
Etched into My
Skin
