It’s the dredging song, the one, pulled, plied from the inner calm

The one that has a subtle hymn-like nature, gutted up, the one that tastes

Of soft silence, a hint of sweet hope but that little edge of wonder unknown

The one, that has sunk deep in the belly of the heart, where all the imaginables hang low, in filigrees of soothing light—basking 

I must dredge them up, let them swallow this darkness in thick sips, temperate moans spilling out & eyes

Slowly closing in the after-taste glow of satisfaction

How supple the comfort of horrors, devoured & gone, a warmth on this ever-cold day

The loosed echoes of things past, disappearing off into the murk of time—a wind pulling it all away

I have dredged. With bloodied finger tips, nails broken, pain beyond feeling—until, until

This song came bubbling up, a spring in all this waste—

And I am full. I am calm. I am fine. 

I am fine. 


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