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Between the doors

November 2, 2013

The sidewalks have stories to tell.

Stories of triumph and sweat

and being late for work,

stories of hunger under a cardboard roof

that leaks when it rains.

Each day the stories rush past one another

unconcerned

overwhelmed

afraid

preoccupied

blind or blinded,

each one reaching for the safety of a door

where they become a solid what

instead of an ethereal who,

fear traded for the relief of a shadowy peace.

We close our eyes and turn our heads away from

all these little wars,

each one feeling like one war too many–

a noise too loud to bear,

a song too sad to sing,

a pain too heavy to lift,

a grief too deep to carry–

and we struggle to paint

a blue sky over these our little islands

with a short-handled paint brush.

And somewhere near the bus stop

there is a sign that few read

and fewer still heed

reminding us that

Hope is more than a cease-fire.

 

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. annaeolson permalink
    November 2, 2013 11:45 pm

    Well written! I have a soft spot for poetry, and I love your thoughts that flow together in poetry. Be blessed!

    Anna

    • November 2, 2013 11:46 pm

      Thank you, especially for participating in the blessing part!

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