Would you give me a sign?

Would you still smile if I showed up early,

wear on my shoes,

pretending I hadn’t lost my way?

Would you open the door or just watch

from that light soaked porch,

arms crossed, amused that I still can’t

walk straight without knocking something over?

Would you still hug me

if I came over – muddy, uncertain,

a little too human for your clean air?

Ive been trying to learn

how to walk without waiting for a voice

to tell me I did well or that the stars

look better from where you are

I used to trace them from below,

thinking you could see me if I stared long enough.

If I reach out now,

will they even remember my name?

Will they resent me

for taking the easy way out?

If I reach out now,

will you turn and forgive me?

or did I let you down so deeply

that I no longer belong,

no matter how many doors I knock,

none will ever open to you again?

Maybe I should walk a little longer,

Even though my sparks now ash,

no longer the fire you once knew.

Maybe I should walk this night alone,

and forget the path to your lit door.

But what if this walking is the real failure?

And if I finally arrive, steady and changed,

Will you be gone?

Or will you see the distance in my eyes

and call it growth?

Would you just give me a sign?

a single flash of light in the dark sky

to know you’re still watching over,

that you have not given up on me.