rpt

qrf

A picture and poem from a walk to the town centre . A reflection on this time in history.

The debris flows,
suffocates our breath.
A daily humiliation,
and pain all the way back
to the wilderness.

Long shadows,
through dead forests
and quite scholyards.
Just strategic misspellings,
with no paragraphs.

Yet, embraced in deep love
a time to overcome.
A new years parade,
beneath the dancing beast–
and feet of men.