We have rehearsed it carefully <br />without believing we would take <br />this final walk...one step? ...three rods? <br />not ever a mile. <br /> <br />Feel the world shake! <br /> <br />Now hurry, for the air is full <br />of hoarse, insistent, moaning scales. <br />First open up the cages, free <br />the birds, for death is grim in jails. <br />These pellets to our furry pets <br />we give with love. <br /> <br />And now, ourselves: <br /> <br />There is no time for a last look <br />at sweet-faced pictures, laden shelves. <br />Maybe the hardest task is this: <br />can we fling all we do not need <br />out of our minds? We have no use <br />for fear's adrenalin, hate greed. <br /> <br />Leave the doors open; let us rush <br />to the place where the street goes east. <br />(Perhaps another sun will rise... <br />There waits our happy past, at least.) <br />Here is the moment; come with me. <br />Our hands are empty; for awhile <br />let's walk, however brief the walk; <br />one step...three rods...not ever a mile.<br /><br />Agnes Clark<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/not-ever-a-mile/
