Procession
Posted on January 31, 2023 by S.M. Moore
To be brave you must become numb;
I walk the canyon on this day with you,
my love.
And as hopelessness weights my feet,
I look around at corpses extending hands, dropping crumpled prayers into wicker baskets.
I have no hope anymore.
And as I walk the canyon,
I feel your hand slip from mine.
I have to go back,
too soon.
But before long I will walk this canyon for myself, and perhaps you will be at the
end,
waiting for me with open arms.
Until then,
I will treasure you in my heart.
I will hear your voice in the wind.
I will feel your touch in the evening sun.
I will see your smile in the ocean waves,
as I brave the pressing tide.
You remind me that there is love in this world, but it seems absent today.
I hide from bodies who pass along white roses;
I pour liquor on gravestones each Sunday.