| He Fought the Good Fight |
I saw a chance at another life.
I was in an egg.
I needed to chip away hard at the egg’s shell from the inside.
I made a small hole.
I popped my head out.
I visited Vietnam for 15 days.
While I was there I began to write short stories and poems at night.
During the day I took picture and made videos.
I was still inside the shell but I could feel my body moving further
outside of my shell.
I traveled locally and wrote about my adventures.
A small local newspaper published my stories.
My family was not interested in my stories and poems and pictures
and videos, but I kept coming out of the shell alone.
A big crack in the shell developed
and I wrote more stories and my mind began to change.
I started to see myself in a different light and with a promising
future,
maybe as a writer or artist or traveler.
I had two arms out of my shell,
reaching towards the sky,
trying to pull my body fully out
and away from the hard shell.
I went to Europe for another 15 days and traveled to eight
countries, all by train.
When I came back I wrote more stories.
I felt good,
and when I least expected it,
I started to get impulses to write poems
and they came fast to my mind like bolts of lightening
and they were already written
and all I had to do was copy them down onto paper.
I was in an egg.
I needed to chip away hard at the egg’s shell from the inside.
I made a small hole.
I popped my head out.
I visited Vietnam for 15 days.
While I was there I began to write short stories and poems at night.
During the day I took picture and made videos.
I was still inside the shell but I could feel my body moving further
outside of my shell.
I traveled locally and wrote about my adventures.
A small local newspaper published my stories.
My family was not interested in my stories and poems and pictures
and videos, but I kept coming out of the shell alone.
A big crack in the shell developed
and I wrote more stories and my mind began to change.
I started to see myself in a different light and with a promising
future,
maybe as a writer or artist or traveler.
I had two arms out of my shell,
reaching towards the sky,
trying to pull my body fully out
and away from the hard shell.
I went to Europe for another 15 days and traveled to eight
countries, all by train.
When I came back I wrote more stories.
I felt good,
and when I least expected it,
I started to get impulses to write poems
and they came fast to my mind like bolts of lightening
and they were already written
and all I had to do was copy them down onto paper.
© 2007 by Michael Domino
by Michael Domino