Saturday, December 30, 2017

I am mary

who knew that it takes a little to love
despite the weather,  storm and clouds from Sunday to Saturday

who stood tall, dressed with awkwardness
wearing yellow, too big of trousers and a shy eye to life

who lives in the shadow, a castle made of memories
years swayed between self discovery and self harm

who is always someone's eyes
and ears, and the brain in between

who reads by dim light
because the shadows might have look in

who loved a crucifix
without paying attention to the blood spilled on the bodies

who carried the storm inside her body
five foot tall and still unable to stand alone

who became shoulders, body-parts,
the one who buried a secret in stone

who was the shadow of the stars
that grew from lying too long in the light

who lifted the torch, toward Fred, toward London,
toward the small cities, the rivers, the hills, toward


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