Walking Poem by Germina Melius

You walk on moons, but I see pitch, and unpaved roads.
I walk on the crust of land, and envy ships swimming on water.
The world walks on its hurting soul, and on ancient bones.
Children bare feet, travel on unpaved roads,
my great grandparents did the same.
Impatience consumes souls; death haunts our pitch roads,
It walks on sleeping bones in sorrow's grave.
The virus travels on invisible roads, consuming innocent men.
Twilight fades before the night, we stumble in the darkness,
crying on narrow roads.
Its coarseness never ends, our swollen feet tears up,
hearts petrified, fear trails like a ghost, until angels lend a hand.
Our roads are burdensome, sorrow will always stalk its prey.
Moonwalkers walk on air.
On old dirt roads, the humble find their way,
Home greets the weary man.

© 2020