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Somedays It Feels Just Like This

It is grotesque.

 Just as the twists and turns drawn on a map cut the world into little pieces,

so they did to you, except your scars led inward and passed enormous pain on the way out.

 We kept faith with the promises of saints and science, they plotted our course with  best intentions, but we ended up some place nooneimagined.

 Impotent faith.

 I held your face in my hands so many times

but still too few. The last time, I felt your warmth depart.

Innocence, dreams and more dreams bled out of me then

as if I too were sliced open, but it all was replaced with death mask silence.

 So, I get to “live.”

 Your soul is freed.

If there is soul, if there is freedom.

 I get to “live.”

 I am lost.

  Navigate by the stars?

 We were the stars, and Polaris has fallen.

 Wind, waves and blinding darkness decide directions now

 And fates.

 I get to “live.”

 It is grotesque.




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