Michael McMahon

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Best Poem of Michael McMahon


The sand...the sand slips through my hands.
And every day I feel the moisture of the sand.
Everything I touch,
and everything I feel,
goes through my palms-
as if they weren't real.

If the gems were too many,
and if I couldn't be steady,
then the mightiest of rocks,
and the strongest things of iron,
would turn into sand-
and fall through my hands.

The sand, it is on top of me.
It catches me so I cannot breath.
It buries me.

It is me, and it is what I see.
It is everything around me.
Because after all-
everything I touch, ...

Read the full of Sand

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