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500 Miles


I have a song stuck in my throat

my nightingale once sang it to me

now I sing to her 

She called two nights ago

again inquiring if I'm alright 


“Yeah of course.  Never better.” 


She knows the truth so

I sing to her

Her comfort 

'cause I'm so far away 

and she sounds so close 

across the wires

then she cries 

and I wish my song were Silence 


Along the wayward path

Long have I traveled along the wayward path. 

Ankle-twist and down I fall again. 

Mud-streaked arms and feet snapping branches as I go. 

Sharp scent of decaying leaves beneath me 

and within. 

Once my heart loved enough to care 

for my Self and Pride. 

No more,

for I released the selfsame heart into wilderness 

losing so much more in the process 

than simply my way. 










I do not belong here

among grating brick walls and

soulless streets 

My eyes reflect the stars

shimmering in obsidian night 

and the scent of the forest 

is heavy on my skin 


His ten tiny fingers grasp my one

Earth's own

hand grown 

Maiden no more - now Mother!

I am


singer of lullabies

to soft eyes 


holder of futures 

in two trembling arms