Mud and Slivers

Clothes torn and worn

From days of wandering

Through thickets of faraway forest

My pale feet painted by wet soil and sticks

Prune like grapes left out to close to the Saudi Arabian Sun

 

Did I love… Or did I

willow in self pity.

I can’t remember where I’m from

Whether people were close or far from me

 

Rhythm and rhyme in my walk is off

Not because I can’t feel

But because I don’t know if I can

Musicality no longer soothes me

 

I cannot break from the furrow in my brow

For natural light has become a colorless

Yet dark silk drape – somehow still

A broken twig spikes the tip of my pinky toe

Finally, I feel something

 

A sad old man – I’ve become

An image no one pays attention to

His life has been lived

But my life hasn’t started

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