Pride / By Dahlia Rabokovits
Even rocks break, I am telling you
And not for old age.
Many years they lie on their backs through heat and cold
So many years
They almost seem peacefull.
They do not move and so the cracks are hidden
Sort of pride.
Many years go by with expectation.
Who is about to praise them has still not come.
And the mold flourishes, seaweed excited and the sea comes and goes
And they seem unmoved
Until a little seal… Continuer