We each go
our own way,
screaming angry words
across a canyon
that divides
us.
Then we meet,
wounded and dazed
by the thing
that separates us.
And we tremble,
knowing
it will come
again.
A Poem is Never Finished, Only Abandoned
We each go
our own way,
screaming angry words
across a canyon
that divides
us.
Then we meet,
wounded and dazed
by the thing
that separates us.
And we tremble,
knowing
it will come
again.