half blind

over the border
and across the line
best guess forward
as I follow behind
I travel the path
smell the roses with thorns
looking not touching
seeing red flags that warn

between blown tumbleweeds
and the spinney soul
in the depths of deception
and what used to be whole
all that remains from
where the wheel rolled
are tracks in smooth sand
from what's taken its toll

the hour grows early
the sun has not risen
the trail grows weary
as it breaks from tradition
handing down emptiness
I shake hands with what's given
it all looks so innocent
in this standard of living

arching my back
as I stretch and yawn
there in my consciousness
it seeps from the claws
inside the chambers
and this ditch of my mind
I remove my sunglasses
and I stare out half blind

Poetry by M.J.B. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License