erroded

I’ve twisted tendons
and callused my soles
from searching to meet you
on softer terrain
I’ve tripped up my words
and torqued my soul
from trying to meet you
on higher planes

But you like to lie
close to the ground
to limit perspectives
to single use views

taper expectations
to scraps of paper
thrown clear of anticipation
And any yearning
they may birth
crawling, trawling
scraping up traces
that may promise more
than what has been earned.

So I’ll tear up my efforts
useĺessly sown
in barren dirt
devoid of worth
beyond burying hurt
And never again
set sights or foot
on this trodden plain

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3 thoughts on “erroded

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      1. You’re welcome. I like to comment but hold back because of… I don’t know, self-consciousness? But there are some things I read, like this poem, that cause my hands to override my head. The whole thing is gorgeous. It made something inside me leap in yearning.

        It reminds me of this:
        “All day long I have held out my hands to an obstinate people,
        who walk in ways not good, pursuing their own imaginations” — Isaiah 65:2

        And so, the last verse made me cry. The idea that the lover/seeker/reacher gives up, the idea that, at some point, all the soil is “eroded.” There is an end to the reaching, the torquing of the soul. Yes.

        Like

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