Friday, November 18, 2011

While you walk

Just a little gesture, one word, a blink of the eye
a hand on the shoulder
while you walk down the path
that lies so heavily before your body, always
dragging forward all you have
into grounds fractured within your shadow
which will never be even
no matter how much you try
to step over the chinks in your armour
they cannot be fixed

One little gesture
turns unopened letters 
piling up
in your mind
to harmless staples of lacerable paper
and day lightens its shade
in crystal clear mirth
brimming over 
the cup in your hands

They so firmly hold onto
its handle, they know
the only stroke they have