Quietly
I slipped your words
Upon my feet
And laced your
Thoughts
As foreign as they may
At first be
Let the strings of your heart
Rest in my hand
And then carefully
Secured them
Into
Figure eights
Tentative steps
Your miles,
And your journey
I have to let go
And leave a little bit
Of myself behind
It’s not easy
For one who's
Used to going
Bare feet
Calluses
Have been
Moccasins
Blisters
From afternoon asphalt
And midnight steel
It’s so natural
To go
To know what I know
Even when it’s round and round
Even when the bigness of the world crowds
Step of faith
Hearing
Letting it carry me
Joined strides
In a larger journey
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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