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002 Footprints
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002 Footprints

Poem By Lori Boulard

Not the ones you might imagine.
There must be peace for those.
I am speaking of a different kind,
made by different feet-
the foreign ones; the armored ones.

These feet do not walk, but run
like hell, hell whose fires
have unpronounceable names.
The sand I know borders no ocean,
but shifts and flies in the face
of everything- silk women in sandals,
the marketplace, change.

In such a place, steps are fleeting;
we make our marks in other ways.
And rest assured, despite what some
proclaim, we are not carrying Jesus.

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 4 votes ) 3

Comments (3)

powerful message, Lori...my take on this is fleeting humanity, fleeing from our acts. excellent work. -Tailor
Lori...I like this one too...send it out.
You not published yet? Why the hell not? ? ? Hugs Anna xxx


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