2019 Kolob Review submission and collaboration
(illustrator)
(illustrator)
Lines
by: Mitch Price
by: Mitch Price
I look around and walk the lines
Of people who’ve been left behind.
My feet slip out like watered sand.
My soul’s search flies to foreign land.
Along the way I seem to find
A man whose brother left him blind.
And standing there right next to him,
A child with a missing limb.
A woman’s veins are bursting blue.
The shivers leave me with a clue.
I reason that I’m terrified
Of needles and the graves inside.
The lines of people start a song,
But quickly choose to move along.
One stands up and then addresses
The “problems” present to the masses.
Lines of figures, figure mine’s
Gone straight through shadowed, blurry signs.
I need someone to hold my hand,
And take me to the foreign land.
You walk my way, eyes bright as day.
I never know quite what to say.
Your clandestine enthusiasm,
Intimidation for the chasm.
Though, I am grateful that my light
Is searching for me in the night.
These lines of people never feel,
What is fiction? What is real?
And, sometimes when I close my eyes,
My eyes no longer recognize.
I’m held down by an unseen force,
Unmovable, an aimless course.
This line is just the same as that.
We’re trapped here by a copycat.
He knows he’s here but won’t advance,
Eyes fixed straight down, cursed in a trance.
Lines of figures, figure mine’s
Gone straight through shadowed, blurry signs.
I need someone to hold my hand,
And take me to the foreign land.
But yet I see there’s hope somehow,
Though politicians take a bow.
They never quite get the applause,
All too afraid of what he was.
Let golden light grab hold of me,
Pull me out, and set me free.
Society’s trapped here in line,
But as for me, I’ll do just fine.
You lead me to another place,
Far from the culture; fell from grace.
And though it’s cold outside, I know,
That I can heal in your warm glow.
The line’s now no more than a splinter,
Eyes trapped in an eternal winter.
I’m safe and in your loving arms,
This wild world can do no harm.
Lines of figures, figure mine’s
Gone straight past shadowed, blurry signs.
I have someone to hold my hand,
For now I’m in the foreign land.