Words on paper don’t mean much
when someone can’t read them
and words rolling off the tongue
mean absolutely nothing if
The question resonates in my mind,
“What are you doing with your life?”
and my answer is the same,
“I don’t know.”
What I know is I am writing about
the things money can’t buy me,
and the problems a college education
will not, and cannot fix,
and preaching what society says
but has not done.
What are you doing with your life? Where are you going?
Well, my feet are pointed north,
and I walk on the streets of big cities, and I pass
by the homeless people on the sidewalk,
rags of torn up dreams and broken hopes
and I ask myself, “Where did they go wrong?”
Did they take a right turn instead of a left turn
and go down the wrong street and were they
too stubborn to turn back or ask for directions?
Or better yet did they ask for directions in a small
town, full of wise men in white-collar suites and
they laugh and purposely point them the wrong way?
Where am I going? Right now I am going to to the store,
and then I will go to the bank and take out another twenty
to buy some coffee and perhaps I’ll give a dollar
to the man begging on the corner with a sign,
“Just lost my job. Need help to get on my feet”
but he has been sitting there for months.
I don’t know if I am going left or right,
or down the high path or the low road,
and I keep moving my feet,
one step, two step, three steps, four—
the whole way people asking,
“where are you going?”
I am going where the stars go
when the night sky fades
and I am going where thought go
when they haven’t been said,
and I am going wherever ideas go
when they die, and rest forgotten.
“What are you going to do
when you graduate?”
Well words don’t mean much
if I can’t read them to those who can’t,
and they mean even less,
if I can’t make them mean something
to someone who has nothing.
Words mean nothing if we cannot
support with them with action.
“I don’t know where I am going
in life, but I will let you know
when I get there.”