dances with doubt

when doubt is your friend,

what kind of truth are you living?

dusk dims again to day

and what was turns may have been

in the back of the eye

I have seen certain lose its peak

yet beyond the depth of the retina,

in darkness,

there is solace

every thing in its right place

in *this* time and space

to bump in the night.

I tow degrees of disillusion

rollicking through the room

finding promise in glass broken, wedged in bare soles,

swept away, dislodged by careful hand

– see, tender and tough do not oppose –

with bruises from hip to shin, ripe and healing

in tones of sunset and sunrise.

I dance, lifted on stubbed toes

all the while,

sowing ahead through tears and laughter.