On the back of our fathers
we trudge daringly along.
With no view of what lies
ahead. We learn from
what remains behind.
Gripping with our young
fingers, for fear of falling
off and losing our way.
Nails dug deep into flesh,
Fate drips from the wounds.
We dream of the prosperity
we are told stories of, but
the dreams shatter with the
destruction and despair
left behind in the footprints.
The ground shakes and
chasms form below.
We hold tightly, waiting
for the day that we are to
carry our sons on our backs.
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