on deaf feet

On deaf feet,
wiggling toes in babbling brooks,
I stepped on
what I thought was
solid,
but the spaces between took
divisions to extremes.

and don’t you hear me,
standing in young rivers that should have
been rapids,
vapid
rhapsody of brute force.

But we’re creeks in a forest,
fallen short of violent forks,
emptying into tides.

We’re the opposite of pride,
mouth of a body
miles away from the
depths of hunger.

On deaf feet,
lightly submerged,
hands form a wall,

trying to find some worth
in starting over after
all.

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2 thoughts on “on deaf feet

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