on the hill of our last hike,
in sweet drinks at one last happy hour,
their voices and eyes are glazed with joy
somehow they haven’t seen
the hurt hovering around every corner,
their small shadows ghosts to
the darkness they’re blind to
i watch them climb Boulder’s boulders,
skip through the sprayground,
stand fearlessly at trail’s edge,
the steep mountain no match for their courage
if you could gather up their joy,
swallow it with angel’s rays
that stream through Colorado clouds,
if you could see the light they always see
then you’d know–
you’d let their small shadows stomp out
the hurt that hovers,
you’d be free, full of life,
ready to shake up the world.
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