Through the Mud
(from the book Blue Bridge)

A line of robots,
We approach a wall of mud,
Some of us carrying flowers.
The others laugh
Bit when we enter that wall
It is the flowers
That will make us an ark
To carry us on through the darkness,
Sailing through
With our symbols the only light
Until we fly
Out over the fields
On the other side of midnight
And all our wires
And bits of metal fall off.-
And our souls are bright again,
So new and light
They shoot up –
Up to plant our brilliant flowers
Like stars
In the face of heaven.

Author: Jay Woodman