How You Sleep in Your Shadow

You hide within the cold shadows of your

self inflicted delusions

precariously scattered throughout your

crooked terrain.

The nights that sleep graces you with her presence

you retreat to the mud-moistened crevices

between the hills

and curl into a tight ball

only to awaken at dawn's scream

and throw a spastic salute.

You pay your respect

but have no true idea why

your hand flings up to the tip of your

right brow.

As the day trudges on

the townspeople pass in groups of two, three, four

and stop to point at the bruises

that decorate your steep forehead.

Though these people move on in silence

you shout explanations at the air

that fills in the space

where their bodies have just traveled.

This is your grandiose effort

to rebuild

paper constructed

pride.

When even the air has ceased to listen

you pick up a pebble from the earth

and name it your companion

who will assure your every footfall.

This goes on for years

and you continue to wake,

salute,

be marked as the fool,

rebuke in false strength,

and retreat to the pebbles from the earth.

Soon your pockets are filled with stones,

your steps are heavy

your movement takes great effort.

Then the day comes

when your pockets are warn and bulging

and when the people point as they pass

and your shouts are not heard

you are left only with weakness.

You fall to the weight of the pebbles in your pockets.

You are so burdened by the

rocks you collected over years

that you cannot even push yourself up

off the ground.

Instead, you surrender to the caress of the dirt

and let it lather the skin

around your forearms,

on your cheek and

across your shins.

You wait there for the people to pass

and point

and you gather the dust from the earth
as your new kin.