I Hope I’m Ready (Brian Falcon

I Hope I’m Ready (Brian Falcon - New Orleans

Mama squeezed my hands

tight when she kissed my

soft cheek as the screech

of the school bus brakes

filled the street.

“I hope you’re ready” she said,

hiding her watering eyes

with her smile.

***

Years later we drove

to the land of loop

the loops and surprise.

I watched people take

on the skies.

“I think I’m ready,” I said

to Dad as we reached the front

of the line.

***

Then there was that night

he first undressed me.

I was only seventeen.

He did not ask me.

I thought I needed him to

set me free.

“I know I’m ready,” I thought

as I let my deep desires

unravel.

***

The unfamiliar

white room spoke to me.

Hushed cacophony.

She was frail and weak.

It haunts me.

“I am not ready,” I sighed,

to say my final goodbye.

It’s not time.

***

Now, the hourglass

runs dry, and I can’t

comprehend just why

we must all subside.

We’re confined.

“I hope I’m ready,” I cry.

I fear to die. It’s simply

unsurmised.

***

I hope I’m ready

when it’s time to cease.

I want to believe

the irony that

release is peace.

Comments

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