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A Lunar Chameleon Dance |
I trekked this path before
the scent is too familiar—
it is the scent of tarnished oaths.
pollutes the water in the well
and the poplars in her street
whisper in a foreign tongue.
At times, old insecurities come to the fore, hand in hand with wistful memories of past lovers, loss, death and grief. At other times, I have bitter quarrels with God late into the night about sin, redemption and child-death; and when solace will not come, in despair, I run for shelter to life's true confessional—poetry.
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A Lunar Chameleon Dance |
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The Surreal Allegory of Power |