On the cracked sidewalks of my mind
there’s a question dressed in rags
that begs an answer.
Every day I pass by, ignoring its tin can
rattle, the pungent smell, need for bread,
water and a roof.
The question does not want money
only opportunity. I choose to mute it
with nonsensical chatter
television, chaos of work, or a bottle
of fine French wine. In the moments
before sleep I hear it and know
the question will follow me down
into the lucidness of dreams. There is fear
to something that howls for freedom.
An animal trapped will chew off its own limb
to gain it. The answer is simple, the journey –
harsh. Tomorrow I may stop
realize the sound of my own footsteps
fleeing this earthly trap clear in the knowledge
with one limb less
will have never felt so good.