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The Walk

The Walk
by Stephen Jarrell Williams

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We walk bone-deep in the city,
faces drawn, eyes dull,
eternal pain nibbling
at our bare feet.

World weary,
undernourished,
ghostly skin, we reek
down waterless streets.

The explosions have ceased for the moment.
Cosmic companions following,
spilling out into the perimeters,
but never taking the lead.

You are whispering beside me,
words I can't quite hear,
but I know your meaning,
I know the treasure of your presence.

We are near bloodless,
never to be ruled.
In the dark distance,
someone playing a guitar.

The news is music.
Smoke rising from broken buildings.
We can always dance,
even in our heads.

The flying hounds
sailing over us,
their wings reflecting
fire in their veins.

I'm tired of panic.
I've made many last stands.
They're not as powerful as they think.
They just hide their weaknesses well.

I open my mouth
like a voice in the wilderness.
"We will never die."
My fist tightening into stone.

* * *


Stephen Jarrell Williams has done everything from mowing lawns to being an executive at a software company. His poetry and short stories have appeared in over a hundred publications. He loves to write, listen to his music, and dance late into the night.

Where do you get the ideas for your poems?

I get my ideas from observing the world around me, reading as much as possible, and especially remembering my dreams.

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