some are
but children,
hopping from one
foot to the next,
the flow of the
parade
carrying them in
its excitement
like a stick
down a river.
some are
the ignored and
the outcast,
hoping from one
moment to the next,
that maybe this time,
this one, will carry
them in his compassion.
some are
palm wavers,
hinting from one
shout to the next,
their longings for freedom
carried deep within
their souls.
some are
passionate doubters,
hauling their fears
from one
pocket to the next,
making room
for the nails
handed out by
the leaders;
all are
simply
us.
(c) Thom M. Shuman
Venmo: @Thom-Shuman
No comments:
Post a Comment