oh god,

i don’t know

what i know anymore

and i am caught between

welcoming this invitation into silence

and resisting this fear of my voice

how can this softening i feel in one moment

turn into steel in the next

this erasure of angles and lines

encircles me

in its grip

til i am stricken impotent

powerless to do

but allowed to be

invited to let it unfold

as i come undone

oh god

if you come unraveled

then what shape am i

if nothing is true

then where do i stand

save within your pale of grace

but god

can this you cast a shadow at all?


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M.C. Reardon


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