April 11, 2021

the laying of hands aka dying a thousand deaths... #NaPoWriMo Day 11




what holds you here 
is all you ever were and will be 
and your poem can be felt 
exhale to gasping for more 
inside mirrors and other shine 
collected to halls of stone 
that eat the sounds, love less respects 

if you are done being loved 
hold every single breath 
hold words 
hold the poem 
hold waiting to be felt 
hold an exhale, gasping mores 
hold those whose hands you take 
be held by those roses posed 
holding any hand taking yours 
holding supposed reposed 
and holding this thought too 
we do dine nicely outside when Summer is in 

humpty dumpty 
honey in the mortar 

fun key lung key 
the heart hears dying first 
ears, always lost in tree music 
birds tuning through cracks in the sky 
we sing lamentations for the frogs 
the butterflies too follow through 
pied piper on the road 
every wish climbs 
starlight into mountains 
where it all began 
a hungry rain 
sharp knives 
humanity 
waiting 
song enough  


EJR © 



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