The 30 Inch Step

The 30 Inch Step
That is how I was trained,
left, right, left, right,
left, right, left.

And roll from the heal precisely,
To the toe,
So to be so silent,
That the even wind doesn't hear you coming.

So why do my feet feel so heavy,
On this Winters Eve,
Why does this stride so ingrained,
Seem futile in the gathering dusk.

Perhaps because I am no longer what I was,
When I was trained to march like a ghost,
Perhaps because though my boots are light,
My legs are heavy, like my soul.

Once upon a time when I spoke
I spoke from my heart,
And Once upon a time I did what was right,
Because it was as inseparable from me as my own soul.

But that seems long ago, and far away,
In my memory of myself,
And now those attributes seem to mean nothing,
And all the world is suspicious of such things.

The dusk is gathering outside,
And one thing has not changed,
I still walk as a ghost,
And I have remembered who I once was.

And so now I am caught,
In the space between being that ghost,
And being the man that I should have been
Before I became the man that I have lived as in the recent past.

I am caught because I cannot shake off the ghost,
And I cannot deny the speaking from the heart,
And I cannot deny the man who existed long ago is still here,
From before he became the 30 inch step.

Quincy R Tatum
December 28, 2011