Slowly marching up,
so far into soft gold trails.
We, relieved, home safe.
You cannot trail with anchors.
Stay in your Wasteland, sour souls.
...And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead, American Culture, Angels, Depression, Fear, Idealism, Isolation, Music, Poems, Poetry, Purpose, recovery, Safe Places, Spirituality, Tanka
This entry was posted on March 31, 2011, 5:15 am and is filed under Poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through RSS 2.0.
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