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Sep 2017
Knocking on my exterior, my wall.
Do not penetrate it, it does not shake.
Your knuckles aren’t hard or clammering
They nudge.
They ease and they test.
Your presence has allowed me to be.
You draw it out like maple from a tree.
You allow it to pour, and flow, and feel.

You set a red path in front of me, it shines.
   Em MacKenzie
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