Wounded Legs

1 Comments

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  • Emotional

    Wounded Legs

     When once I walked on wounded legs,
    The earth I could not feel.
    Could not discern from right or wrong,
    The false, or what was real.

    I could not stand on solid ground.
    I stumbled, tripped and fell.
    My vision blurred by hazy sight,
    That viewed my self made hell.

    My supplication lifted high,
    From perdition's ease I begged.
    For comforts now, and memories balmed,
    From the walk on wounded legs. 

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    Lasmuigh commented on Wounded Legs

    05-05-2013

    Great work, you really captured the emotional journey vividly. Very enjoyable read!
    Reply to Comment

    If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.

    Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) American poet.

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