December 7, 2017

Poem: Protest

digital collage by S. King, using a photo
by Brad Spiess
The rock is in my way;
I have to move it.
When I push against
This obstacle,
I uncover all
The nasty things
Living beneath.
"Why did you move that rock?"
People ask me.
They blame me for
The hidden creatures
Lurking below it.
They tell me,
As if it's
My fault they see
Something ugly
Crawling out from
Underneath that rock.
The rock is in my way,
And I will move it.

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