on a hiking trail
a path barely as wide
as a footfall
marked only by flattened grass
and small rocks strewn
haphazardly,

maybe someone with a bum knee
has fallen,
someone who was out too late
the night before,
or a child running giddily,
too eager to reach the top of the hill–
not watching her step.

whose clothes were torn?
whose skin was broken?
who was bruised?

who laughed it off?
who cried?
who pretended it didn’t happen?

who stayed down?
who got up again?

©A. D. Joyce, 2016