A Poem

With willing flesh
And heart replete
A thousand miles these feet would walk
In searing heat

These heavy eyes
Would gladly gaze
Upon the sun’s relentless
incandescent rays

But heroes faint
For lack of hope
When lesser mortals less prepared
Would somehow cope

The flesh finds strength
From scraps and spills
And breaks out of its boundaries
When the spirit wills

But flesh’s
anaerobic burst
Will face the hearts inertia
When it fears the worst

The spirit hides
Behind the skirts
Of fixed primordial paradigms
And ancient hurts

The heart made strong
With longings stirred
grows weak with dreams betrayed
And hopes deferred

© Chris Price 2010