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Poem: Awake


Trudging wide-eyed through the valley of  sleep You emerge lethargic, clutching dread like

a tattered quilt Trailing dream fragments of acrid smoke, empty questions.

But over a cup of prayer fade the night voices, and the faces become after all only the patterns of green leaves and clouds across the blue.





 
 
 

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© 2024 S.Kirk Pierzchala

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