Safe

18 Apr

 

Safe

By L. Stewart Marsden

What sole soul has not reached a place
Where her measured pace
Becomes little more than plodding forward,
Bracing against wind and rain and cold,
Aging older and older,
Too tired to tow another burden or bear
Another day or hour or minute or instance?

Are you so immune and protected?
Do you not detect this march is unto death and beyond?
Can you so carelessly wave off the sharpness of
The wind,
The rain,
The cold,
To be so recklessly bold that you feel sealed against
Their cutting edges,
Never to bleed?
Safe?

Pity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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