of the above

Few to none
Can see thru me
How I fight to live
And how life fights against me

I hide beneath
pen of poet
Wry and wheat
To shuffle off
Any cry of weakness

It works ag’in me
For so sharp the nib
Hides sharp the pain

I have thought to give up
Give in
To the calling of sky

I hear whisperings
Of my name
Among the Nimbus

I lie
On summer’s slow dry
Grasses and listen

Their voices
Murmur, now
How to join them
I reach

One comment

  1. Wow…. no…. stay… Believe in health, in restoration. It could happen… and we need you! Your words are powerful, powerful. Live to write them… *** mcb***

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