Every time I cross myself, not foster it, let it go
To the wilderness, where I intend to walk in
Not knowing the real root of anger, the time and space
We belong to, ignoring the shabby, ragtag outside,
Disparate? They are not exactly as we perceive
But it is enough to break their backbones,
Crack through the criss-cross joint planes,
Of vengeance and blather snapping old chords,
Pain and anguish, only weak they are,
No moon walking or languid faces under solar light,
Sad steps seek to rise but failed and frustrated,
But the judgments of other still occur,
Undone by the crack on the bedrock,
Not convincing at the end of the journey.
This poem’s perspective conveys a sense of immediacy and urgency about an enigmatic individual whose questions remain embedded in doubt.