wet leather shoes

Standard

I remember standing on your wet leather shoes
with dirty bare feet and the sensation
of your hand pressed into the small of my back
reaching in for my soul to call it back home.
It had been out wandering wailing and weeping
for three days now,
since they took our innocence away
with two planes, two buildings sifted away
I didn’t even really know you but
you knew I was lost and you went out looking
for what I needed to come home.
I needed to find a piece of beauty inside humanity
I needed to know that joy could still exist
inside this hateful world we’ve created for ourselves.
You pulled me in close, called out to me with
gestures, thoughts and motions I still don’t understand.
I cried when I saw God crying for all of us that night,
but you pressed your forehead into mine,
pressed your lips into mine,
pressed your hands into my soul and brought me home.

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