The Link.

A tangible link to you, severed.
Steps I wanted to trace, to follow each turn.
To walk the path of resistance, to hold my head up high
with badges and certificates of merit for my trials.

These days it’s like everyone’s counting
but they’re all counting aloud
and I’m silently gathering forces with each step
counting the click of my boots on your pavement.

One of these days this shell will crack
and the bird will rise.
And crow.
And soar.

I wanted to hold the chain,
to keep the link alive.
But these days it’s almost as if you can’t wait
to send me down a different path to the one in my mind.

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