Sometimes I feel a deep sorrow

O scornful cry,

In the depths of my heart

Sometimes I long for tomorrow and mourn the loss of today.

Sometimes I try to make sense of the Psalms,

and travel long and far to see me

From the palms of my hands.

And as my withered feet tread the same corners

I find an imprint of my tracks facing backward

And I see them in all living things

if they’re really there.