My long legs reached to the farthest shore of my being,
shoving and pushing through the muddiness of rejection,
and the sucking swampiness of my serious certified sickness,
each step a challenge of my spirituality of distinctiveness,
of my direct thinking to wonder at the great unknown, and
still I’ll move, ever my blurred eyes looking for the briefest
of arrivals and departures, each harried horizon differing
and developing in her persistence to a protected peace,
a hushed silence in the noise of extant voices, seeking
rest for my soul and a hidden haven of hopefulness.
