can you count them on one hand, the good ones,
or do you have to take off your socks and shoes,
using your finger and your toes,
to count them all, but only, the good ones...?
they are like a soil where your roots can go deep
and be exposed, and still be nourished,
in the harshest of times, still flourish,
and like something vulnerable, be nurtured.
time is not a friend, and if you are like me, and I hope you are not,
I have more time than friends, soil has been replaced by rocks,
the filtration is great, for the amount of saline water that flows,
on every lateral root socket that grows,
would have drowned the roots years ago,
and the soil would have washed away.
today
roots still exposed,
memories of those
who were once close
greying like my hair,
fading while
the roots hang on
but there is no one there.
©DWE122013
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 2:12 AM UTC
can you count them on one hand, the good ones,
or do you have to take off your socks and shoes,
using your finger and your toes,
to count them all, but only, the good ones...?
they are like a soil where your roots can go deep
and be exposed, and still be nourished,
in the harshest of times, still flourish,
and like something vulnerable, be nurtured.
time is not a friend, and if you are like me, and I hope you are not,
I have more time than friends, soil has been replaced by rocks,
the filtration is great, for the amount of saline water that flows,
on every lateral root socket that grows,
would have drowned the roots years ago,
and the soil would have washed away.
today
roots still exposed,
memories of those
who were once close
greying like my hair,
fading while
the roots hang on
but there is no one there.
©DWE122013
Request permission to use this poem