"We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike." ~Maya Angelou

Friday, November 18, 2016

Poem: Requiste For Life

 Strong limbs carry her forward, covering rough ground,
rocky hillsides full of loose stone that trips and slides.
There is very little level ground here and the
pack is too heavy, cutting into her shoulders and back.
Arms and face are bruised, and torn. It doesn't matter.

She scans the terrain ahead, assessing as she
paces, gulping air, resting, bleeding, thinking.
Soundless, she watches and breathes, listening.
This is not a good place to stop.  She moves on.

Mountains divide and forest obscures, forcing her to
walk by sun and by starlight, searching for sounds of water.
Something! She stops, looks behind, disappears into shadow.
All senses on full alert, she waits, listening, ready.
Silent as time, they step out of the valley mists, whispering
long remembered verses into the thick, thrumming air.
Her breath catches and she lifts wide, shining eyes to theirs.
They pour honey into a blue bowl and raise it to her lips. 

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