Name in Sidewalk

Back then, I chose to be engraved. Through hue of pride I hoed wet cement in my own way, vandalizing worse than regular blackened gum chewed hard and from me spent then stamped to pavement. Becoming pavement itself.

Now what remains? Have I dared to hear the passing names, the children, the silence, the birds, the buses, the pulse as I have hardened my heart?

Do I now even hear me still deep within me as if planted like a dream, life eternal called to rise above this salted corpse? Is my name able to peel away and fly like a magic carpet ride? Or is there tar upon my feathers? Are there tears between my letters?

I wonder now if truth stand stills, or breathes?

I hear God is truth.

Seems I am indeed free to believe, if only I could get out of the way. And not be stuck on me.

Published by The Black Lion Journal, TWD Magazine, 2018

Written by Joe Bisicchia on 01/01/19
© 2018 Joe Bisicchia

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life, heart, God, dream, children, birds

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