Two Special Umbrellas
E-Mail   by Willie Christopher Tucker   Bio/Address

You can't really feel me
because you ain't been here.
You say you know my pain
much time has been wasted -- again.
Like drifting in the wind,
far out on the uncharted oceans --
no direction -- lost.

Feel my presence,
watch as my essence -- radiates
and invades your thoughts.
"You can't stop the rain no-how
I don't know why you try"?

My insides have been left nude -- hollow.
My life having no consequence or value.
Yet, you've dreamed my dreams
and you say you can feel me.
Who gave you the right
to put on my shoes
and walk that walk
invade my thoughts?

once prohibited intercession
now an oasis that lies on fertile ground.
You have not stopped the rain,
but you have given me shelter --
and now,
for once in my life
I believe there is someone
Who can truly
feel -- me

Commentary by the Author

    This poem is very dear to my soul because it reaches deep into the very core of my being. It figuratively describes at an accelerated pace a truly beautiful relationship I hold with two very elegant women. In the infancy stages of our friendships and during a period in my life when I didn't realize the importance of life, they were there to protect me. To provide shelter.
    In my early years of incarceration, I was struggling to become focused -- to find direction. Every day was like being caught in a sudden rainstorm. There I was waiting at a bus stop -- nothing to shield myself from the pouring rain. This is how I felt. Problem after problem and no relief in sight. No one who could "understand" what I was going through -- no one could "feel me" and know my plight. But then, I met Julie and Claudia. They dared to enter my little world of despair. They dared to understand what I was going through. They helped me to see the world in a totally different light. Because these two wonderful women reached out and gave me shelter from my rainy days, I have grown. Not physically, but inwardly as a direct result of their example.
    Although I'm still caught in the midst of the pouring rain, I'm no longer getting wet. I have two very special umbrellas.

More Poems and Thoughts by Willie Tucker:

Urban Rose

Land Where My Fathers Cried

Mysteriously The Pen Speaks

Hit Counter