121 lines
2.6 KiB
Text
121 lines
2.6 KiB
Text
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Twenty-One
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2021-04-30
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***
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Come spring, there will be a garden in the backyard.
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And I know that it will be hard
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to convince my fingers to dig into the dirt,
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to convince them that this time
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it will not hurt,
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they will not bleed,
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that things will grow from the ground
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lush and ripe and able to my hunger feed.
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A year and a half ago, I almost died
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wandering the town square,
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waiting for the library to open again
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so I could from my mother
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and her screaming matches
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and her commercialism
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and her endless onslaught of interruptions
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hide.
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My thighs were burning,
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not from the labors of childbirth,
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but from the frostnip thawing-
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and, by Goddess, did it *hurt*.
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Flesh as human,
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almost a refugee.
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I was test-running homelessness
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like it were a new car,
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like it came with a commercial:
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freedom
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and a world
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stretched out in front of me
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that I could hold
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if only my palms could handle infinity.
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But I didn't want to leave
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my favorite tree
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behind.
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I couldn't stand to watch the rain
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come down and feel the pain
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in my heart, asking:
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what is it worth if I gain
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the world but lose
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my life because I felt
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I could only choose
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scraping by on the skin of my belt?
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I tell myself, one of these days I will run.
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I will slip out once the sun
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has gone to its own home
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and I will leave mine forever.
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But all that I do
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is as if
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I will stay.
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I reach
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for the sky
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as I dig my own grave.
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I let Mother
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and Grandmother
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and people I only know through my mother
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buy me gifts
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I know I have not the room to abscond with.
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I fix my desktop,
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giving it a new shot
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at life under my desk.
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I buy a game,
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even knowing it insane,
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so much money just to stare into a screen
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and let the remnants color my dreams.
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But in the remnants
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I find a baby quilt
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faded and soft
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that speaks of unconditional love and shelter.
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In the remnants
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I find myself laughing
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at a homemade cake,
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lopsided, wildly off-kilter.
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In the remnants
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I find a life worth patching back together.
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I find a garden
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and a bicycle
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and a gentle rhythm
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of pleasures simple.
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There is no audience to please.
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There is no greatness to be attained.
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Just go enjoy your life.
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The outcome will be the same.
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You survived Goddess' trial,
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convinced you had to cut yourself down,
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but instead you slashed open your chest and let forth
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an ocean so deep she might drown.
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And what scares you is that, if she does,
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you might not emit a single sob,
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for your love stands at your back and whispers,
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"Create a world with no need for gods."
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Over and over again
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you find yourself
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discovering there was never any other way.
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Over and over again
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you find yourself
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reaffirming the decision to stay.
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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