Tagged: poetry

saturday

Open air collapses. Right on time.
All planned misfortune. She rides
the waves. Finds a way to let go, resists
the urge to let this feel like dying. She
is nothing short of intensely alive. She
is hungry. To not hear her own voice.
She wants not to be alone in this choice.
She has faith that she is not alone here.
This ground, if she closes her eyes and
flattens her palms, as a herd of buffalo runs,
close enough to turn her bones to earth.
This is a very good place to see from.
She must learn to look, to observe in
tranquility, even as sand blows into her
eyes.
Love keeps this alive.
Do not provide a host for inferior influences.
-CassidyMillar xoxo

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