Grasping Air Poem by Rachel Kovacs
Grasping Air
As the dust settles
in our hearts
hands are left reaching,
grasping, pleading
from the concrete tombs
that enclose our lives.
We are pressed down
by the burdens of living,
unable to heal our
wounded souls.
We are losing our battle…
hoping, praying,
for someone, somewhere
to free us from the rubble
of ourselves.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
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5/5/2024 4:47:46 PM # 1.0.0.1119
