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Aug 2011
Twisted within the East
we drank in silent footsteps
halfway between the days,
at least a thousand times.
Hidden inside our slumber,
visions of strength came into view,
through years unkind.

Pictures of sweetness
lay under everything we saw.
No second thoughts drifted
from our pillows.
Until we wandered into the rains
that fell from the shadowed eyes
of our unsung heroes.

Faded air from the West
turned corners,
began to shine upon our names.
We all confessed from our souls
as we watched storm clouds gather
at midnight,
heard in the sound of our shame.

Soft singing was heard
from the South
emptying love into all of our senses.
A sea of wild seeds
became an orchard of understanding;
storm clouds lifted
a thousand footsteps’ defenses.

Great treasure came from the North
bringing heaven’s hope
quietly to fill the holes in our hearts.
Our souls all became
transparent as glass as we drank
in new strength
when light did impart.
Neva Flores Varga Smith
Written by
Neva Flores Varga Smith  53/F/Rochester NY
(53/F/Rochester NY)   
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