Archeology of me


Rooted here

In my upper stomach

A seed.


As my power 

Expands

It grows too.


Generating a 

Current

Of heavy emotion


Doubt.

Intolerance.

The anger of

Violation.


Come 

Little seed

Unearth yourself


Come into

My sun

To be known.


In the hole

Where you

No longer rest


An old

But now fresh

Wound


What happened?

Are you okay?


No.



Yes.


This world can be

A terrible place.

I hear you.


Anything else?


I don’t know 

What to do with this 

either


Let’s just sit

Together

For a little while.


Strange

How the passing of time

Fills in the space.

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