for the end 
we took with us
what we had
even if it was not
what we needed.
we walked or crawled
toward light, or toward
darkness. some went
alone, some carried
another, some were
carried. we suspected
that once we got there
it would be a bad place
but we pretended
it would be heaven
in order to hold
the desire to keep 
moving and not meet
the end in the same place
we came from. such a failure
would tell volumes 
to those few who might
come upon us after.
what a waste, they’d say.
it is as if they never lived at all
or even tried to survive.
did they think they were
stones that would not break,
would just continue being
after the end had come? 
to have others think
such a thing of us
would be unbearable
so we gathered
what little we had
and moved for the end
as if it might offer a new start
or at least amnesia.
we moved, thinking
at least what we left behind

would speak well of us.
our legacy would be
that when we knew
the end was near

we moved toward something
though it was too late
and had been too late for years.
thinking that in
the best case scenario

maybe no one at all will be left
to speak ill of us.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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