Malleable Steps

Photo Credit: Nicole Rodriguez



That’s what I want to be.

The mal I’m able to be

has nothing on the good

he enabled in me.


I’m afraid of becoming so.


hard as iron.

“Hardwired,” they tell me

to fall.

There are treads in the sand where

my feet have been–

the proof of what I’ve walked in–

and I want to pour cement

into the grooves to immortalize them.

But even where I’ve been

must be malleable.

There are microscopic treads on the soles

of my feet only he can see

which will stiffen in death,


macroscopic treads on my soul

you could see

because we are both immortal.

He sends a wave

to wash away my treads–

you won’t find them.

I suppose

if I could immortalize them

I wouldn’t need to walk with him,

and if I never walked with him

I wouldn’t have found that the proof of who I am

is grooved into his treads.


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