Every Process of Living Begins with Short Steps

Photograph by Jose Padua
A hint of yellow shine appears
at the window while the weak
ticking of the clock is heard again
between mumbled words. Our house
is like an old man humming songs
in the back of a dusty store on a flat
highway that runs away from the hills.
Though I am no longer catching my
breath with my hands these days,
my feet feel my weight with each lift
and fall quickly through short spaces
when I stand and walk down noisy stairs
to meet you. So, walk me through
the sidewalks with their fallen blossoms
still damp from a cold spring day’s
fulsome rain. Fill these boots with
the motion of your leading me,
and I will step away from beneath
the clock to follow you with short steps.

-Jose Padua

Photograph by Jose Padua


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