Monthly Archives: February 2017

Intuitive

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I know he comes 

From heaven.

He says he is from hell.
I feel the trail of

Star maps he draws 

Intuitively on my skin;

He creates magic constellations

And places them in my heart.

I

Hear the wishes trapped in his throat

When he whispers

To me in the

Dark.

I see his wings,

Not with my naked eyes.

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Ropes

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In my complacency
And desire to be loved
I, in a time past, allowed others

To tie

Their defintions
To my ankles,
My hands.
I allowed them
To obstruct my lips,
My breath
Until
Left
Ragged and strained
I fell to my knees
In shame.
In shame for what?
For simply being myself.

Old Riverbed

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Walking the old river bed,

How often has the course changed?

How often the boulders

Worn to rocks

Worn to pebbles

Worn to dust?

The river carries them on,

Shape shifting.

How often the roots of mighty trees exposed,

How often

They held on until

Nothing left for them to grasp,

They succumb to the way

And float on?

How often no man stands to witness the

Sound

Of the fall?

All

Become one

With the river

Eventually

Returning

To the sea.

Old riverbeds remain and regrow from tiny

Seed to become mighty trees

They return

In time forgetting the river.