The Ancient Modern

Wounded Reaching  /  Joshua Alan Sturgill         

I know I know
I do not know
a bleeding hand
a beggar’s bowl

a river bed
in Winter, dry
clenched with drought
the deer pass by

wounded, reaching
truth through thorns
trembling legs
tangled horns

I know I know
I blindly reach
I never know
I never cease


All poetry and supplementary material: copyright 2022 by Joshua Alan Sturgill. All rights reserved.

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