Chalk

Startled by my own shadow, 

startled, and shell shocked--

I exist outside of my body, 

but what kind of creature am I?

I feel thin, and my heart weeps, 

as cold wind blows me away, 

I feel thin hearted, and I weep.

The pools of my own perseverance

have been dipped into too often 

and because I forget my place 

in this other-worldy scheme of things, 

I am weary and depleted. 

Creation knows me, 

as the painter of the sidewalk, 

who lays her burdens out 

for the trees and birds to see,

while walking simple streets. 

I am an aching wretch, 

and my skinny heart knows it, 

so I am startled,

by a shadow that does no justice 

to the brute I often become 

inside of my skin, 

but rather it paints me blank

with no wear or tear, 

or damage of any kind. 

I live in hope, 

on the concrete, 
even when I feel none of it 
within me.