WIL MICHAEL WRENN - POEMS

Wil Michael Wrenn is a poet/songwriter who lives in rural north Mississippi, USA. He has an MFA from Lindenwood University and is a songwriter/publisher member of the American Society of Composers, Authors, and Publishers (ASCAP). His work has appeared in numerous journals, magazines, and anthologies, and he has published a book of poems. His website can be found at:  http://www.michaelwrenn.com/

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​Flying

​When I feel chained to earth
and pulled down
by the cares of this world,
I often drive to Enid Lake 
and watch the flocks of birds 
flying
out over the water,
up over the land,
and I imagine 
what it must feel like
to be free of the earth,
flying,
soaring high 
on silvery wings
up into the sky
higher and higher
buoyed by the wind,
sailing on an ocean,
an ocean of air,
and way up there
they must feel joy
in their own way
for they are free
as they look down on me
and other earthbound creatures…
I look up at them
as they turn and dip
and float in the breeze,
and I could swear
that they have not a care
as they soar so gracefully there,
but no wonder –
they are flying!
and if I could only join them,
I would be as free
and filled with joy
as they seem to be.
I would not have a care
as long as I was up there
far above the earth
and gliding
in the cool, light air,
free… free –
flying!

​Water

​I tossed a stone into the water
and watched the ripple it created,
and so I tossed another
and then another,
and the ripples expanded…
Suddenly, I fell
into the water;
the water rose,
first to my knees,
then to my waist,
and finally over my head.
I felt myself going under,
and there was seemingly nothing
I could do about it.
I was intrigued by the water
and drawn to the water
because I had been thirsty
for so long,
but now I’m drowning,
about to go under
for the final time – 
a high price to pay
for wanting and needing
water to nourish me,
water to fill me up,
water to wash over me,
wash my past away,
water to renew me,
water alive for me,
with me, and in me, 
but I am swept away
out to sea,
stranded,
with no one but me
to see my folly. 

​Light

Someone glimpses your soul
because you let them in,
but once you open that door,
you stand naked in the light,
and it’s over then.
When someone can only see you
dimly or in silhouette,
half-hidden in partial light,
you are somewhat safe,
protected by the shadows
dark and shielding,
but you reach out
toward a bright and warming light
that you vaguely remember
seeing before, or seeking.
You are drawn to the light;
yielding,
you gravitate toward it
because light is life,
and you’ve lived too long
in darkness.
But you are afraid
that the light will know you,
that the light will see
who you are…
and turn away.