Sunday, June 30, 2013

A poem brought forward from 2009

Standing at the Edge

Standing at the edge
where I can no longer walk with dry feet
watching the bands of tiny waves roll in over the sandspit
reclaiming it into part of the lake, if only an inch deep
Thinking about the story you told

Your friend standing at the edge
of the highway
watching trucks roll by in rapid succesion
ready to step
beyond the boundaries
considering
what I would deem unthinkable

I stand mesmerized by the water
the changing patterns,
life moving ever on
wondering
at the struggle, the emptiness
of those who could think their life forfeitable
who could think they had that choice
not to stay

Radha

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