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the human race is
mother and i must suckle
or die a rare death
i walk an empty
path,,,, and think it is true lie
so here i am now
saw the demon in your eye
fell in love with you
take me there again sweet one
pain don't matter now
breath and blood all important
sound the speech of war
 Sep 2020 Bobby Copeland
Eman
I hope you’re still feeling peaceful
Some place where you’re safe
Separation is an illusion
You remain forever
                     tangled                     
                      in                        
      my        
depths
A message to my inner child. Written (2016)
i'm from a small, yellow bedroom
yellow flowers, yellow layette
and yellow jaundiced skin  
i'm from the taste of the tea mother makes me when i'm sick
and from the sound of her singing
about how she looked and looked for the light
like the roots and the leaves floating in the boiling water
her voice a soothing sound
like bubbles in simmering tea

i'm from words written on a page-
the feeling of an old book and the smell of a new one
and i'm from hiding beneath the covers
falling in love with black letters printed on white paper
i'm from lots of illustrations and then none at all
when my mind became colorful enough to fill all the pages
i'm from "the game is afoot"
and "after all this time?"

i'm from all over the world
pieces of my heart, a jigsaw puzzle
like my family scattered all over the globe
i'm from canada, from the US, from france from lebanon from italy
i'm from a country nobody wants
but a country that desperately wants us back

i'm from messy hair, oversized sweaters
half-finished sketchbooks filled with promises
and ******* poetry lines
i'm from the echo of my own voice
against the splatter of the shower
i'm from reading in the flashes of street lamp lights
i'm from pursuing science and desiring art
drawing on the airplane's foggy windows
and wondering how it flies
with a clear head and with clouded eyes.
etched into my mind
you fill my dreams with pure love
let us never wake
escaping reality
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