Grace Undercover
by Fabrice B. Poussin


by Fabrice B. Poussin

There is blood in the grooves of a dried-up soil

our ground still screams from memories fast gone

life ends again where a seed was to grow.

Mountains neighbor the deep canyons next door tightrope

walkers hesitate to take on the promenade considering

abysses as they stand atop a chimney to the core of a living

body of molten desires for an unknown future.

The traitorous journey will continue perhaps until

we open our eyes and trust, blind to the light

into a final leap over the obscured depths of dying souls.