Poem nine

Sidewalks are cracked

bodies having fell on sidewalks

cracked the concrete into small boulders and cemeteries.

Blood is the birthmark of sidewalks

killings have caused bodies to spill sacred fluids

on sidewalks and left marks from birth on concrete.

Love has hardened some of our spirits

hard cemented boulders of beating flesh

in chest cavity holds no blood to be warmed.

People walk around everyday hating themselves

cracking their spirits open like the broken sidewalks under

footing walking towards death away from birth.

And the spirit moves in a way that the air dances.

Then the spirit asks a question that never gets answered.

Instead we walk in circles searching for a solution.

Holding our guards up for the wrong things.

Keeping our purposes locked up.

Swallowing the key to open our purposes.

 

 

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About monalisasrandomthoughts

I craft people poems. I laugh out-loud. I love all things. Everything is about order. My movements are chess. Everything to me calculates. I just look like this.
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