Cary Briel

There are feet
You know–
Down to earth– like Mother feet;
Iron feet
Where flesh and God meet;

See the muddy toes!
Dirty toes– where dirt shows;

Babies, babies–
Babies everywhere
Being lifted up– high into the air
As mother cries
As mother wipes their eyes;

And their names–
They seem familiar– except for games
And Adam–
And subtlety–
Except the fruit of that damn tree;

Did you miss me,
All lifted up?
Seeing the misery of me–
Forgetting how much
You loved me.