195

Day One Hundred and Ninety-Five:  M

  In so much withering, in the woods with us they were,

Next to our packs, our canteens, our shelter,

But they took none, and fell short, behind,

And shriveled in the sunlight.

Sometimes we follow sheep to find the right path,

And others stars, following the endless round sky,

And others follow nothing but the reassurance of presence,

I trust in the earth beneath my feet, heavy at my tough.

So neat, so tactile, so dusty and faded as they followed,

Crushed between patience and pressure to go,

A leader among us?  A leader, hushed whispers and pointing,

But no, just once more, another withering, another behind.

I’ve been trapped in books, in classes, in relationships,

In the dead of night, in a hot summer’s day,

Being trapped it seems is contagious, and so are they

But I truly do believe it’s due to their belief.

They believe us to carry water, to carry answers,

And yet we must only carry dreams, and canteens

For ourselves, a selfish generation of prolonging and longings,

And insecurity.

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