The paths that I walked
are grown over,
impassable from melt
a mud that holds everything still
in its need for footprints
and bones, not yet hardened
to shale
a process that kills
and preserves
you call fossilization
but I call
a dangerous past
Ah, Susan. The sticky mud of the past may not all be mud. ((SIGH)). Well penned. Alice
Thanks, Alice. There are other things in there that I don’t want to get closer to either 😉
🙂