I alone must

stand my ground

dig my tattered toes

into the gravely mound

that shifts

and lacerates

tender feet and heart

time and time again

bend my knees

loosen hips and sway

in hurricanic gales

imbibe frigid sips

of now

swallow down

seasick of futures past

release ghastly

ghostly fearful hoping

from hands


shrug off despair

in shoulders


as the weight

of the world

sloughs off

raise fatigued

triumphant arms


the tempest


tearstained earnest face


the deluge



Photographer: unknown

29 thoughts on “Still

      1. Haha… I’d probably be more into the mandolin, or a drum. I’m also prepared for the inevitable ‘is he or isn’t he’ that accompanies the wearing of a kilt.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I don’t want to hijack your post. It was sort of an inside joke with someone, maybe now an inside my head joke, that I am a fallen angel with wings removed, dreaming of flying once again.

        Liked by 1 person

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