The stomach suffers immensely
It suffers from lack. The spine bent and hobbled with hurt,
the spine that held up the stairs
and resisted the shifting walls, the spine
carries us forward, stiffened, but not broken
The hands, palms dark and swollen,
knuckles split, fretted with blood
broke our fall and drag us still from the rubble
The soles of the feet with so many years
ground into it. And the heels
that steady us, ridged like the bark of a tree,
Soles and heels, with the legs tireless
and drained, that sprang us free, rock us now
here where we crouch. Head in our hands,
lips broken like the earth beneath the stream
that long ago fled, and the teeth,
so few, gapped like houses that stood along the ridge,
jailors, holding back the cry
that overtakes us: the heart suffers from loss,
it suffers severely. The tongue, furtive,
caked with the stench of its own saliva, wanting
to… wanting to speak, and the eyes,
those darlings of life, weary from never closing,
the eyes link and sustain us
as we look to each other, and without turning
away, as we look within, lifting us,
lifting us…
Photo by Brett Hondow, USA