I. My feet burn like the sun, and so I run. My legs, pendulums in motion, stomp upon the earth and mud. I am Sandstorm, plunging from the mountain, sinking like hope down a slip'ry slope.
II. My arms bend like the hawk, and so I fly. My hands, feathers of wings, float upon the clouds and sky. I am Whirlwind, roaring from the heavens, soaring like pride when one must abide.
III. My chest yearns like the heart, and so I breathe. My lungs, fish out of the sea, pierce into the walls like sheathes. I am Water, coursing through the river, streaming like blood from a vital flood.
IV. No rampart can stop me. No mountain can top me. I will purge through like a rampant flu, but in the end I will fall like you.
- Alexander McCurdy
3 comments:
i believe i like this
like most of your writing.
"poetry is just the evidence of life. if your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash." - leonard cohen
Post a Comment