with her, i’m walking. exposed toes on jagged roads, 

made of pebbles, pebbles made of stones, 

made of boulders, boulders made from, who knows. 

ambition, a stones’ throw, a road grown, home.

each breath, extending, a finite stride, yet never-ending

pass along our final steps, ascending. pass on everything. 

pass on the pebbles made of stones. pass on the boulders made from, who knows

pass on the clothes, pass on the shoes that mute these jagged roads. 

step on the feet; the defeat of thorns, the wild ones adorn with dirty knees

step on believing we survive these things. step on the wars that make us men

step on the sights we’ll never see again. step on the day. step on the night

step on believing, despite the familiar jagged road being nowhere in sight. 

 

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