Untitled Poem 3

Silence holds my hand
As I walk up the azure summer stream
My pallid face and wrinkled hands
Tightly clenching silence

Further along, hunters return
Championing a golden calf
A lesson not learned
Silence holds my hand

A bronze skinned man lies bleeding, forgotten
His crutch nailed through flesh
Red flickers from his chest, a bloodied body in the gutter
Silence moves me along.

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