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Season's RedemptionSeason's Redemption
i'll pay homage to the fallen me
and i'll drop flowers at my grave.
then i'll return to that place:
where chalk lines of me are drawn.
i had walked this earth a ghost
for days and days and one year.
my soul was ripped out of my eyes
and for eons after, i was blind.
on my tombstone, i etched it in
with the knife he used to slay me:
"Died from loss of identity. 4-14-10
At approximately 4:30pm."
and when he finally returned after
one billion tears had been shed,
he let answers slip through the cracks
of keys as he typed hollow words.
inside i'm still tortured by days
when thinking of eating disgusted me.
when i sobbed until i'd been zombified,
i clung to the things that burned.
he never knew just what that was:
the pain i felt as i hung on his sleeve
and begged for sweet resurrection.
i still hope he gets his share.
my world crashed in heavy chunks:
the sky fell, trees withered, i died...
though Earth was peering into spring,
believe me, i can almost taste it:
that crisp air - crisping still
of the homeland i reluctantly left
a place hanging from my heart
like the hook in Salmon's lip:
metal, cold, with a lake water taste
all those memories i've gathered
like stones; like shells; like flowers
i can smell those times, even now
believe me, i can close my eyes
and see myself: looking out
my window at the maple trees
i recall how hard i had begged
for budding leaves to grow for me
as if the sleeping beings could hear
the summer air still stings, you know
from back then, you remember
and i watch myself cry on the stairs
believe me, there were better times
yes, tart and cinnamon autumns
when school meant to stand in windows
the muddy springs whisper things now
like i should be redeeming a prize
for the anniversary of the day i died
familiar places hold gifts for me
some hands are old - others skeletal
bearing hearts that stopped beating
believe me, not all is that o
i push myself down
and crawl to my destinations
on bleeding palms and tearing knees
i resist doing what had
filled me full of pride in me
pride i needed to keep walking straight
i subdue and withhold
but what is it that i'm holding?
all i have here is what i truly think is real
i dump out my head
and i find all kinds of fish
with rolled up maps in their stomachs
i fear and i hold back
all the words that have been
begging me and tugging at my sleeves
i learn so much now
and with every passing day
i morph those fish into scaled birds
i roll over and over
and i collect life on my skin
absorbing it all into me for processing
i shake the feathers
from my eyes and ringing ears
i refuse to cower in the shadow of loss
i want to set free my brainwords
but is that so wrong of me?
why am i scared of what i've always done?
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