November 15, 2016
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Twenty-two ducks sit in a row
all following the mother duck,
I take a keen notice of the smallest little duckling,
as he struggles
to keep pace with his mother,
our eyes meet
and he pours his whole hearted emotions into this quick passing glance,
all the while Miss Tellulah and the twenty- one obedient followers continue on their journey.
At first I jest at the runt of the litter,
yet a resounding memory rumbles in my ears
like train constructed of thunder and nuclear explosions.
I was once this small and weak,
a small child,
small height,
small voice,
Little me,
lost in a big crowd,
too small to be noticed I was being left behind.
A small quack breaks my daydream.
Now as I gaze into the hazel voids of the duckling,
my heart then bleeds sympathy for the small water fowl.
And as the feeling fills my chest cavity it pours out of me and skews my vision into a watery blur. Through this fluid mosaic
, a scene of clarity
tunnels its way from the deepest of my thoughts
that though our lives are opposite
our feelings are on a similar plane of struggle and adversity.
A growl from my gut and a gust of wind under my feet,
I find myself leaping to the ducking,
bounding and reaching
I scoop up the the little fowl
I rescue him, I save him
Because if I don’t
Who will?
If no one does anything
If they just watch as he’s left behind
How will he live?
Will he die?
Will he survive somehow and
grow up against the odds
Grow up alone
Grow up cold
Grow up into this shell of a hu…
Into this shell of a harsh old fowl
Trying to conquer the world
Confined to solitary in a cell
Constructed of his own insecurities
Concrete qualities of wanting a friend
And needing to be alone
An oxymoronic feeling of wanting help
And not wanting to be helped out
Whether your feet are webbed, cloven,
Or wrapped in converse
You must walk on them by yourself
Others can show and teach
But you must be the one to test the soil
And once striding
Start running because it's a race and you're in last place
This competition is life long
Bad steps will come
The soft soil may turn into cold concrete
And that into thistles
You can quit anytime you like
But how can you quit
When there´s a chance you can win?
S*** happens,
people come
Ducks fly away
It’s a horrible world
So go ahead and duck out
Just know
If you do
You didn’t try to make it better
And you’ve lost the race
  As I release the ducking back into tellulah’s custody
I tell him my revelation
Keep pace, learn quick, and save someone you see
Because you could be the boot in their ass that helps them win their race.

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