Wednesday, September 09, 2009

don't walk?

at the busiest corners
of our lives, where
our toes tap out
a staccato of anxiety,
our knees buckle
from the weight
of the doubts
stuffed in our backpacks,
our hearts thud
to the beat of despair
in our earbuds

you stand . . .

the faded signboard
Who do
say I AM?
chaffing your shoulders,
while little sister, Sophia,
hands out icecold bottles
filled from the aquifer
of hope.

while the flashing red hand
freezes us into place,
you pick up those
cobbled together pieces
of grace,
stepping firmly into
life's flowing traffic

glancing back at us,
as if to ask,
'you coming,
or not?'

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

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