There is one
I remember
Through seasons
Who came and ran away
At first, until
I chased him barefoot
Through the history of myself off the edge of a red cliff
There is that story of Jacob’s wrestling…
The stones their bodies fell upon
Still imprint my soul..
How skin fell through air in slow motion
Getting scratched along the way
with the law of gravity calling them home
These bodies, torn surfaces we wear
are suddenly seen caressing in mid air
and upon impact are
cradled into the calling earth
