The Only Road
He sits on
sidewalks with cups of
hot foam to warm
hands beneath gloves.
Not standing. Not
walking.
Now perhaps he is
grown,
carrying the
weight - the perceived
weight, the presumed
weight, the weight
of the world.
Elsewhere there
are loved ones lost,
a child cries, a
father is widowed. Somewhere.
Yet phones are ringing and
tears are spent and questions
asked, and he
is acutely aware...
His turn has come to suffer
that loss. He wonders,
searching for the strength
to stand. Hoping... hoping?
Either way, there are only
two options that remain: Sit,
and stay warm, or stand and
walk hard into the ice, so
cold, so harsh against his brow.
That is the only road that leads
to somewhere other than here.
Copyright © Chad Wood | Year Posted 2011
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