When the seconds stretch between us
like a stampede of buffalos running
from lionesses
it makes me question
if I ever had the wisdom of an owl
and whether I followed an obscured path
with the chaotic flitting of a bat screeching
his sonar symphony
I wish I could make my heart as light as a feather
to stand before the jackal when he weighs it
against Ma’at’s truth
when I collect the shattered pieces
of my expectations
I can stick them back together
become something that isn’t
stitched together by blind circumstance
and feckless platitudes
I can crack open the cocoon
see with eyes that find a promised land
and cherish the ones who were
in front of me all along.



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