the platitudes of willful resemblance

I’ve never fallen to my knees
     and prayed to God;
tumbling on loose cobblestones
in old town squares,
I’ve spilled coffee over my shoes
but not often new ones.

perplexed but not quite daunted
or reversed stretching out at the frailty
     and being only man among men,
     poets.

2.
walk with me,
though I do not walk so much as sway, pitch
or stagger.

walk with me,
though I shall be muted, scarcely
swinging my arms at the sides.

walk with me,
though hell I walk, ancient seraphim
in ash and agony.

walk with me,
though hell is too wide for eidetic
narrative.
 
– Hoc Scripsi

image by Tess at Magpie Tales #51

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