Saturday, August 29, 2020

breathing

 the cloister of breathing

the only thing

I take refuge in now

dried leaves on sidewalk
dirt between cracks, a cigarette butt

I know its much more impossible for you
where there is no recourse
from the ugly words, the threats, the fists

between a rock
and a rock
and a leap of faith
that feels more like
a leap from a fifth-floor apartment

but take Her hand
that breathing might be
an oasis in the burning forest

believe me, soon
there will be ashes around you
grotesque, yes, but quiet

now-cathedral
future-glimmer
past, fuel and fertilizer

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