judgement day
home
Stepping on the toes of saints
tripping on my clumsy feet
falling on my face in front of
the masses.
laying on my belly
and peeking up between the off-color
strands that I try to hide behind.
I see their eyes,
cold and convicting.
who are you to name my sins because
I don't dress like you?
who are you to decide how much I'm
worth by the effort I've made?
standing tall against the crowd
elbows and knees, bony but
determined.
angles in all directions,
but still going forward.
Not running,
but dancing.
8/31/01
