While the bombs go off about me
While the time-lapse scurries by
And my clothing drenched with mud and tears
And I
Just wondering while wandering
What happened
How I’d forget the details too
All the motions and how they connect
Through the motions, through duress
The distant bombs still tell of danger
And in this greatly catastrophic time
I found a crevice to hide, bound
And binding
Licking wounds encrusted with dirt and tears and blood
In belief that if I do so
Then perhaps all of this is dream
Not fact
The rights to this poem goes to Juana M. Gumbs as of 01/03/2021
You are a gift to words. They were meaningless until you told them which order to stand in.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That’s sweet!
LikeLike