Poem Crowded

They had walked what had seemed like an eternity,
but walking in the shoes of the wicked did not produce lashings of water.

For what fed the feet,
would not feed the mouth.

Yet they had gathered many heads in transit,
but so many brought a crowding of thoughts.

Such a gathering left little room to move in.

This may have been the plan all along.

Little spaces leaving little room for change.