They each grip each other's arms tightly and say,
"Like the dawn, break then rise."
They dig their nails into each other's skin and say,
"I can read the storm clouds in your eyes."
They refuse to let go and say,
"How can you pray to taste while hiding ash under your tongue?"
They hold each other close because no one else will and say,
"Why be angry with the world when the world won't notice?"
They struggle to escape, too close for too long, and say,
"The gods have shaped you for greater deeds."
They always return and say,
"You have not made your loneliness holy or useful."
They always find that they still fit just as neatly together as before and say,
"Beware, O wanderer, the road is walking too, and it's faster than you."
They all ask, sometimes shyly, sometimes with bloodied lips, between insults or kisses, bites of cereal or chess moves, with a grin or tearful eyes;
"The night we met, did you remember me?"
YOU ARE READING
Those Who Walk Alone At Night
PoésieThose who walk alone at night (the sleepless, the sad, the bad, the mad. The lost, the lonely. The homeless.) all remember when they came together, weary of words and people, reeking of heaven or hell at midnight, and all wondering; with what nothin...
