Move Down the Street

A Poem by Pamela Eason

As some story tread in my sleep-seized head,
I was sure God said,
“Move down the street
To the other end
Where the trailers are.”

Down there junky cars and beer bottle shards
Litter grassless yards.
Kids run wild, and
Scabby-skinned men stop
Where the crack house is.

From my bay-house perch near the river birch,
My soul strove to search
What would I do?
Could I move down there
Where those people are?

On this I did muse and felt quite confused,
Till I saw the ruse;
A dream had built
That illusive place
Where the God voice was.


© 2016 biblestudygirl @doxologypublishing.com

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