Nov 22, 2011 00:21
when there is unbearable weight we search for a crutch.
open the closet door. find the quiver.
every one tailored for a different hurt,
a different heaviness.
every one well worn, well used.
where there is darkness we search for the sun.
when the shadow stretches farther than our faith
we cower.
when the rain threatens to drone our bodies-lying-prone
our breaths quicken.
sharper than before,
gasping to carry a bit of this life into the next.
we hold still
so as not to awaken.