seahorse

The route that's been forgotten

 

It's pride, they cried

But I tell you I heard

Whispering behind the wall

In the next room

I was frightened I would die

My fall would lead to my tomb

I had not thought well of

Of her, of him, of them, of anyone

Complaining they moan I roared

Where is the way out of this debris

Entangling me and them, leaving

Not one free? We must pray

And we do

But this gift of prayer is often

Left to later, and we go each

Our way

In fear, out of gear

Bumping and striving, forgetting

We're already here. 

  • Author: seahorse (Offline Offline)
  • Published: October 6th, 2021 18:37
  • Category: Reflection
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  • User favorite of this poem: rebmasters.


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