Land or Sea

Much like a turtle

carrying something heavy, 

moving expertly slow,

taking in everything

details, and all.
I’ve never seen my legs, my shell, or tail

just my arms, scaly and such. 

Yet all of my limbs swim freely,

positioned percisely,

to take me wherever I want to go. 

Why does this shell change in weight?

Swaying, hallow, and so easily able to fall.

What was it’s purpose?

God made me this way

colors and all.

The world enjoys my shell, 

hates it’s protection, cringes at the scrapes, cracks, and unattractive ridges.

I try to resist the fall.

To understand 

within the darkness,

colorless peace,

to carry on.