Thursday, July 7, 2011

What I Think When I Try To Remember

Into the distant haze
Of mist and foliage
Look to the pathway
Engraved in the flesh of the forest
Find no footsteps
See nothing except
The animal sameness
Of any blank space
Because she was lost,
And now she’s found
And not at the fault of grace.
She’s her own worst enemy now,
Calling out in the silence,
Pulling me back
Saying
You know your places
You should know
Your own flesh,
You used to.

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