CHANNILLO

Begging the Sky
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I beg the sky, the grass,  

the trees to release me. 

As if they hold the key. 

I envision my head hitting 

the bark of this tree over and over again.

Out of this darkness my longings lead, 

like  blind guides. 

Aching need sits in the deepest pit, 

I barely recognize as my soul, 

in this, its current color of kohl.

Lies drip like morning dew

from the unreliable voice in my head.

Escape has eluded me,

times too many to enumerate, 

But the drive to fight resurrects itself

as misty rain saturates my hair and clothes, 

washing away some of the pain and sadness.  

If only for a moment I am radiant

and dance with pleasure and rele...

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Table of Contents

Series Info