Occupy Poetry

Old Stones of Egypt

BY Avery Dae

The street calls to the running feet upon it
years of decades pending sending pulses
long from a dawn burning purging witnesses
who bring to this lifting drifting, time of blood
ancient crippled knowledge handed word for word
to the lips of women giving lessons
and children making memories
sitting on the knee of grandfather who recalls
a day when he was nothing more then another
dancing child learning weaving ways among
wishing whipped masters peering into tradition,
yes... these feet answer the street on which they run,
we are coming... we are coming.




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