Scars of the World

-
Snow,
last night,
doesn't quite cover
the scars of the world.
The dusting softens the hardness
of reality,
for a moment,
brief.

We walk
on our journeys,
hoping the direction is pure,
but the world
bleeds through
the thin layer
of promises
made in this life.

January
is always waiting for spring,
just as February
will agonize for color
and warmth,
death
and life.

I pray that the path
beneath my stride
is the chosen one,
despite my constant
rebellion.
I have been lost and found,
cold and warm.

I am the stranger
walking
on a seldom traveled road,
in the evening's
light snow.
A lacy veil
barely covering
the scars of the world.



copyright 2018 - Donald P James Jr

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