Don't let me be too late

iaian7 » blog » poetry   John Einselen, 13.01.09    

You were standing in the market,
when your old life came a-calling,
a debt you couldn’t pay,
and yourself for the selling

Do not let me be,
too late by your side,
running past the shoes,
you hastily cast aside.

Stuttering on the cobblestones,
stumbling through the naked streets,
mind entangled like your legs,
frantic thoughts in feverish heats.

Do not let me be,
too late by your side,
slipping on the blood,
as stone and feet collide.

And there along a cliff I see,
your soul all worn, and deathly wet.
the wind drops silent, like the birds,
as time falters, broken, unset.

Do not let me be,
too late by your side,
to hold and caress,
and hope that you see…

I take no account,
of a long, sordid past,
when I call in the street,
to a far humbler caste.

You were standing in the market,
when you heard someone calling,
an account you couldn’t settle,
and the awful darkness swelling.

(and so you ran)

Do not let me be,
too late by your side,
to hold and caress,
and hope to provide…

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