Someone once told me that writing poetry should be felt,
maybe humiliating, or embarrassing.
Sort of like what humans can never depart in doing.
Once I took a long walk down a dark street,
when summer was just about done
I needed some fresh air.
Night -air more like it.
There were guys hanging out on their porches.
City buses scurrying on their rounds.
Heroic buses picking up the dead.
I saw hearts as weak as mine
some cold, some set aside
walking beating hearts
facing time.
but we do it
and we walk
through the night
through the ache
through the days
So I’ve learned
there’s a bit
to therapy
to it
So walk unhindered
walk alone if you must
walk with your head up high
walk to the smell of city coffee
walk to taste the air, bright and crisp
and when you’re done
remember there’s no-two
walks that walk the same
just keep on walking~your kindness Krissy Mosley
A Poet's Vision 
Ain’t nobody going to turn you around … I hear it keep on walking, keep on talking. Kristy you are writing about freedomland.
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🙂 likewise my friend likewise 🙂
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