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Levita Mar 2021
I write like the ocean,
Wave upon word strewn wave,
Only, though, in times of turmoil,
When in those few moments of peace,
I am like glass,
Heart and pen still,
No words pouring from my hand.
Yet, as of late I pound the boulder strewn shores of discontent,
Railing against doubt,
Hoping that if I wear them away peace will again come.
Glassy, smooth.
I really only write when my heart is heavy and it's like a storm. Wave upon wave pouring out so I can find some semblance of peace or exhaustion.
Levita Mar 2021
It was like fog,
Inconvenient and beautiful.

It was like the sun in winter,
Welcomed but deceitful.

And so was his love,
Like these things.
Levita Mar 2021
Our Lady Corona ,
Walks in heavy light,
She is the patron saint of the quarantine soul,
The saint of not to close ,
Of yes, of course, if you think so,
Of broken relationships filled with stress fractures,
Of racial violence,
Of No , I ******* think not anymore, not today,
Of lost ambition and found glory,
Of viral dances and memes,
Of shattered vases, hearts, and tears.

Our Lady Corona,
Shepherdess of our own moral ambiguity,
Of our lack of societal value in others,
Of our need to be, exist within our own universe,
Of our lack of empathetic emotional service,
Of our generational divide,
Of our continental divide, of the divide that is the political mainstream.

Our Lady Corona,
Take pity on we poor sinners,
Take pity on those we have wronged by our “snow flake” or “Boomer” additude,
Take pity on the hearts that blacken daily with their lack of remorse and understanding,
Take pity on the break down of human empathy.

For we ask in your name to be passed over,
The great equalizer you bring for some.

But in your wake let me singularly believe,
Not all things, not all people, not forever, just days,
Perhaps, just as all other things , you too shall pass.

LGG 3/19/21

— The End —