the ties that blind

the web
of us, the ties,
the strings of the past
keep
us from moving
forward.
we sidle sideways,
stuck
in the glue,
the tether of what
was.
the muck and mud
of another time
holding our shoes.
where's the scissors
to set us free.
the shovel
to bury it,
the broom to sweep
it away.
the rope to pull
us out
and get us on dry
ground
where we can start
anew.