Dust Walk

Dust from the road swept up embraces the walker
With ancient memory of time before life was breathed in.
He knows his destiny without the Breather too well
As each plod of the foot kicks up more of the past.

Infant child reaches for eyes fixed in the blurred dark
Knowing without ever looking into the mirror
That what is reached for is a piece of itself missing,
And it is the reaching in the end that saves.

Penitent prostrate cries against the dusty road
Deposits teared droplets on a trail of essentially dust.
A spotted trail worth following.
Fine to reach the pool where all tears eventually come.

Laugh at the dust forgiven in the mirror, not as a jest,
but as the jester finally finding peace in being the clown.
It is the forgiveness itself that reeks of absurdity.
With each chuckling inhale take in the life again.

 

© Copyright 1999, Douglas Decicco, 181 Dogwood Lane, South Windsor, CT - This poem may be duplicated and distributed freely provided the following three restrictions are adhered to during the duplication and distribution of said poem, regardless of the number of recursive duplications or distributions made:
(1) No fee shall be collected by the distributor in payment for the poem or the duplication or distribution thereof.
(2) Neither this poem, its title, its punctuation, its spelling, its layout nor this copyright shall be modified, amended or abbreviated.
(3) This copyright shall be included and clearly visible on any and all printed or electronically displayed pages containing this poem.

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