If you had eyes, you would cry the Nile
until your mane was streaked with dusk.
Instead, you stand like a stone,
unmoved for days on end,
blind to the lush fears
that grow wild and
free beneath
nightfall’s
glare.
If you had eyes, you would cry the Nile
until your mane was streaked with dusk.
Instead, you stand like a stone,
unmoved for days on end,
blind to the lush fears
that grow wild and
free beneath
nightfall’s
glare.