The Road

Tiny steps on a narrow lane, every gravel stone sharp with pain

I count the dust motes dancing in the light, learning how to balance, learning what is right

I stop, I turn my head around, checking if their hands still reach the ground — The road answers back beneath my feet, so warm, so alive — and I am incomplete

Are you watching, mama? Are you standing near? My feet are small. The world is too severe

And the horizon didn't have a name... Just a whisper calling through the rain