Two Poems By Darren Miller

The Backseat by Darren Miller

 

Callused hands carefully caress the crevice,

Searching for the belt buckle

Amidst conflicting feelings of sorrow

And joy, and anger and love.

Berating and blaspheming brothers

Joke and push and shove,

Surreptitiously deceiving the saddened

And surrendering soul slouched in the backseat.

 

He joins in making fun of himself,

Trying in any way to be accepted, connected

To the outside world,

Ready to give a mile,

If he could but gain an inch,

When he stopped a while and listened.

Jubilee, rejoicing, laughter.

Then he raised his eyes.

Tears teemed triumphantly from the skies,

Reigning and looming over the world.

 

Suddenly he was silently stuck

Behind his group on the sidewalk,

Only wide enough for three,

Then at home alone after his friends

Decided to break free and leave without him.

 

But he understood, so what good

Would it do to hold a grudge?

Sense of self, empathy,

Happiness, hope, patience,

Love,

All gained by trying but failing to express

The extent of his caring nature,

Briefly captured by “unconditional”

Or “unrelenting.”

 

Misunderstood but understanding,

Created not for demanding but for giving

And forgiving.

And waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

 

He’s still in the backseat,

Looking out the window

At the footsteps below.

He’s not alone, and his time

Is just beginning. Watch him go.

 

The Way of Life by Darren Miller

 

The power of the rainbow

Lies not in the science of how it works,

But in its ravishing extravagance

Exhibited by its brilliant, luminous rays,

Not to be prohibited

By the finite day of man.

But rather savor;

Soak in its presence, its effervescence,

And accept its evanescence.

Because its brilliance abounds

By breaking, bit by bit,

The human façade that is life.

 

Even the night is subject to such light,

A colorful halo about its white marble’s gait,

Eliminating the plight associated with night.

But you mustn’t wait for the gate

To open the Way to life.

It has been gaping, open wide,

Painting its hope in the skies,

Hope that we don’t taint ourselves

With the falsehoods from Hell.

 

We cannot contain it,

Nor can we explain it.

We can simply gain

Its message of eternity,

Engrained in its infinity of humility.

And so we must go,

For the sake of our posterity,

Into its horizons of propriety,

Seeking the Truth which we know.