driving through the olden
ways of youth
the fields are no longer cotton
but sunflowers as tall as corn
the same places the slaves
used to toil are now filled
with migrant workers,
who may soon be free
I wonder how long it will
take them to find their footing
the slaves are still stumbling,
overshadowed by Walter White
how long before the dreamers
dreams die too, run over by progress
just like the dog on the shoulder
if I didn’t feel nothing,
I would not feel at all
yellowed pages of a dusty Bible
the tremors of motes dance
in sunlight, stirred by the breath
of the ghost of what was
I laid it rest long ago
but still she follows me
the marrow of the story
carries the weight.
I am not ready to tell you
yet.
Maybe some day
I will,
if I may be.
image courtesy of Pinterest
Fantastic!!!
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Thanks Stella 🙏
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Love love love this
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Thanks Amberley, I am happy that you enjoyed it 🙏
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Very much
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😳
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😊
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Brilliant, OP!
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Thanks buddy
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This is rife with emotional intensity. I can’t quite put to words the ways in which this makes me feel. I suppose that’s precisely it – it makes me feel. A wonderful write!
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Thanks very much Max. Hopefully you are taking care of yourself. Great to hear from you. I’m always seeking to provide emotion, so I’m happy to hear it worked!🙏
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