I am not

I am not holding a flower of hope in hands that can’t feel it, with eyes that can’t see it, in times that can’t make it grow once more.

I am not listening to the sound of silent peace with ears that can’t hear it, with a mind that can’t feel it, in times that can’t make it sound once more.

I am not walking with life around me in a body that doesn’t know it, with legs that won’t travel it, in times that can’t make it real once more.

I am not hiding from dark corners of fear with eyes that know them, with a mind that makes them, with ears that listen to them, with a body that’s steeped in them, with legs that wade in them, in times I know are never to light them once more.

I am not.

P Bridge