Solvatur Ambulando
And all the poets wept.
The trees are restless
as the sea ceaseless --
Except for the raging --
A sound like shadows
moving --
A waking to ache and
streaming of leaves,
anxious for dawn to
sever sky from dark --
for light to cross the sill
relieve the interior clench,
straighten the spine, and
leave lament to dry
in the sheets --
To slip on expectant shoes
and warm broken feet
walking the still-green
earth.
Published by
Martha T. Terrell
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Images of pain set in motion
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