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written to

raptured
by the journey
resistance of before –
icy plains and parched
exteriors

weathered lines
wore me down –
bleach and blind
the same
more for every snowy
white december

breathless
consequences –
of justice we have naught
will leave them there
forgotten
by our kind

sometimes I’m
reminded of ashes
blown my way –
and destinies
now weaved into
my soul

. . .