Written on The Ground

I am here without anymore substance left engaging my fall, gravity has abated its hold upon me. It will though try to keep me down. I feel it even now, motionless, but hovering around me. I smell the floor as a place so many others have leaned against. This rank odor of time and fallen souls. The adjacent ground for some holding flowers in a heap around their bodies. Mournful tears as rain occurs.

For others the grey pavement still contains a semblance of life. Newspaper stories wrapped around legs and arms for warmth. Sockets of eyes staring down at us, hair that blows gently in the wind without any cares it seems to me. The conversations of passerby’s containing nothing one might pray to hear from others. Empty words I do not understand. I pray though each time I find the strength on those lonely streets.

Come for me another, help me regain my stature. Lift me up we sing, verses memorized for what they are worth. I become gospel, my purity ascends heaven, gravity makes way for enlightenment. I stand up, what little is left of me is cause for joy. I sing with the strength to be heard.

Written on the ground as I stood up.