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An argument between friends (#313)

23 Jan

My hands are traitors to my feet
My feet want to be moving
–here to there–
–purpose to objective–
My hands want to grasp things
–to hold on–
–to slow me down–
My days are an argument between the two

My feet try to move out of the way
Avoid puddles
Don’t trip
Keep me standing
They know their job

My hands try to catch things
Raindrops and frisbees
More to have
More to give
My hands like the air
My feet are annoyed

But on some days
At some hours
My feet do dance
Circles and taps
Not moving to get somewhere
Just loving the ground
Sharing the joys with my hips
And my shoulders
And even happily with my hands

And on some days
At some hours
My hands do let go
Release
Empty themselves
They understand mortality
And loneliness
And find solace in prayer

My feet allow them
Their sadness and peace

 
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Posted by on January 23, 2017 in new poetry, Uncategorized

 

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