array of syllables to ever be uttered
you retrieve the dead from their bones,
and cut into being 7 new men
holding hands like identical little strangers.
I thank you for your kindness
I thank you for your poetry
I thank you for your freedom, as clear as cantaloupe.
This burden has been lifted
and I intern have floated up to heaven
rid of my earthly form,
to find solace in solitude.
and sweet, sweet surrender
No comments:
Post a Comment