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  Jul 12 n
ADoolE
It’s no surprise
that kindness feels so sweet
when you’ve been starving ,
even crumbs are a treat.

It’s easy to miss,
but the truth is this:
a little kindness
can feel like bliss
  Jul 12 n
Agnes de Lods
So many colorful shards,
so many scattered books,
my Father left behind.

He connected the dots
with me, in space and time,
listening to the wind
when it was raining.

Absent and so close,
he used to say:
“Listen to what’s on the ground.
See what lifts us at night
when the birds go silent.”

He gave me more unrest,
he was the left hand
forced to write
with the right.

He believed in me
when the system
sent me away,
dismissed me.

He had hope
without medals,
standing steadfast
in the last row.

Now the body crumbles.
There is a memory
full of holes.
A counting echo—
he remembers,
he doesn’t,
it’s fine,
still hard
but his voice lives…

Time is blending
into a rusted chain
of events.
Tenderness,
resistance
to the falling apart
of departure.

He won’t come back.
He won’t recover.
The body is warm,
life doesn’t want to escape
the shrinking shell.

Sharp words cut helplessness.
Many nights still come
until the final return
to the embryonic state,
to point zero.

I am here,
into this deep night
being the witness to breath,
awake in the dark gentleness.
n Jul 11
I was never one to take
hot showers, but now
the waters scalding.

Hope to numb the pain —
to burn the scent, scar the skin.

The water keeps getting hotter
and hotter,
my bones are growing colder
and colder.
n Jul 11
tracing strings backwards
pinning moments on a board
only too become entangled
      by     a      feeling  
that   shouldn’t    need      remorse  

unravel the ties
to keep from fraying
weave     in    and    out
to  stop   each   cravings

knit my words into your brain
stitch your chords into my skin

intertwine to rewind time


reclaim  
respire  
consider  
desire


rinse. repeat.


live in denial
    or  
start   a    fire


reclaim  
respire  
consider  
desire


rinse. repeat.


strike the match
stoke the fire

burning bridges
(so i thought)
it doesn't matter
(an afterthought )


its getting late
it's time to think


              (for)   a   lot     more

                       laughter    (a  love   long  after)

-
n Jul 9
i am a cliche of broken words  
a reminder of dreams forgot

a passerby
a second thought

a mistake made
time delayed
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