MOVING
Candice James
Copyright 2009
Moving through these unknown times
I’m spinning on a dime
Pretending it’s a quarter,
Fooling only the sad clown
In the last row of this theatre of doom.
Moving through this night so long
There’s no whisper of light,
No lure of warmth,
No blanket to hide under
Except this sheet of tears
This space of ice.
Moving through this hard edged desperation
There’s only crimes
And suicides of the heart
To be investigated;
To be dissected;
Then blessed;
Then divested.
Eventually
Moving through
Becomes moving on.