Alphabet Soup Minuscule

J.C. Scheff

The Many Faces of You


I took a detour, as the cicadas sang in the trees above me.
For a moment I was lost among the many faces of you.
Yet, I feel discovered and strapping in this awareness.

Losing isn’t penitent, base or damaging, as some might suggest.
It is glorious, acclimatizing, and stimulating.
The unpredicted possibilities escape like goodbyes.

My bare feet do not feel the gravel,
Only these sandals my hands carry.
These ears don’t hear the brass,
Only a moon that lights the path ahead.

For the path behind me is a dead end.
That path we turned around,
Turned our backs on,
And then turned back,
To look to see if the other was looking
Again and again.
To another place,
A better place to forget.

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