Here my spine is broken.
Here it is curved
backward, sideways
into the body’s darkness.
Bones don’t cooperate.
I tell you this so
you won’t be disappointed
when your skin grows tired.
Look. There is your fallen hair
gleaming almost gray
in the sun.
Tomorrow when your feet
also lose their prints, dust
will settle behind you:
the ground bones
of the earth.
Don’t cooperate.
Step hard, my son.
While you live, make
mountains of your wishes.
Carve your path deeply
onto the spine of the world.
© 2006 Christine Klocek-Lim
Christine Klocek-Lim 
This works really well. I like the reliance on plain language & the repetition of the motif of bones as a symbol of mortality. The poem seems to anticipate an imminent death & yet the tone is resolutely calm & positive. Thank you for this.
Dick, thank you for your wonderful interpretation. You have discovered exactly what I intended for this poem. I’m pleased this spoke to you so well and clearly.
We are all heading for that inevitable “dust to dust”, but it is the journey that counts!! Love this Christine!!
Just walk aheadand every footstep counts.Just move forwardand every footprint counts.Those are the magical domain of life.
Pat,thanks for stopping by. I wanted this poem to end optimistically and it seems you’ve found that note in your read.ufukhati,Thank you for your perceptive and graceful response. Yes, every footprint does count!