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waking up rich, waking up poor

The world beyond the walls has already begun, although quieter than even before, what with the holiday now. While rays of light come through the screen door and transmute patience into rays of hope in my breast, the heavy stench of darkness snaps away at it. The heart that beats within me aches for communion, while the mind at work above me spins thoughts like silk that coil around my neck. At once, muscles in the back of my neck draw the face upwards towards the mountain's upper edges. Lungs pull in air. Eyes bulge, escaping their bone caves. For a moment, the awareness of what lay beyond the haze opens up. It smells like lingering spiced burned in irreverent prayer, and feels like cool sea air through the hairs on my skin.

Here I am.
from 5 April, 2020


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