The Moving Wall
A Poem: We Create Our Own Way
Published in
Nov 25, 2024
I hold still long enough to find dormant skin
once flayed by politics’ heated whip.
we graft our way to health, a piece at a time,
still ambition’s frenetic push,
its unwinding of us.
once we tended wounded hearts,
felled tyrants like trees,
made room beneath raw skin
to float on that hazed rim.
I remember compassion’s salve,
a word caught on the breeze
you in water’s wake,
empty jars
lined up by the door
to recycle my life.
skin can grow back on its own,
given enough time.
if we survive long enough,
we can do it all again
if we want to.
© Audrey Howitt 2024. All Rights Reserved.
