Walk in the Park

I walk in the park
dragging a stubborn ankle,
left leg imploring the right.

They watch, curious,
or maybe they’re sorry.
Steps quicken,
the air around them
grows sticky
with grateful perspiration.

Listen to the throb of
leaking headphones,
faster, faster,
sticking to the slow lane.

I wonder if the eyes
on the benches
older, wiser,
see more.

See through the
elaborate charade
of limb calling limb,
see through the mask
of pain hurting pain,
see through the
incoherent balance,
foot before
inadequate foot.

Could they see the soul,
mirroring the legs?
Could they see time
mocking the laps?
Could they see the future
take one cautious step,
the mangled past
unwilling to move forward,
impossible to leave behind.