HillShadow
Time is measured by the peaks;
the backlit sun all at once speaks.
But here our plodding, muddled wills
live in the shadow of the hills.
Grief
The one-legged man labored,
excruciating pain
from the loss, from the leg that was
not there;
real phantoms, torment
that struck mid-
sentence.
Took three times
longer on the job,
not because he had just one
leg, or because of lightning
agony;
But because medication fooled
the pain, deceived his brain’s
deceit, made him forgetful;
compelling him to do things
over and over and
over.
I Samuel 25:1
The poetry and images of
Kenner Beckley
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