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a 20-minute walk trom my doorstep

was a single sneaker full of fallen dead leaves.

in a moment of fate, the weight of the world

had just missed whichever small girl

was wearing one bare foot home as it fell.

spring was on it's way,

ushering out the cold in sporadic spouts

pretty soon the sneaker she left behind

might drown undemeath the "dead end" sign

i'd almost taken the bus home that night,

and I thought about how i was one step away from her path being unwritten to cross mine

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5,678 miles from my doorstep

was a single sneaker,

not filled with dead leaves

but with dust and debris

a small girl held the other in her hand

as she walked back into the rubble

she saw crumble in a split second

the weight of the world hadn’t missed her this time

there was no dead end sign just death and it was by design

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i’d like to believe that their souls will not bruise or bleed but i can’t

control the weather

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empathy is empty if only sympathy, disconnected and voyeuristic

my line of vision via mini screen and an acute mind’s eye

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their shoes lay behind

mute

a single lost thing

intertwined by innocence and an anchoring symbol of perseverance

defying geography

and asking for a step to be taken in its place.

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how far will i go?

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