Flock

I was eating cereal while I wrote this

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1. Co existence

There’s coal in my belly
not to burn, to soothe 
smoke breathing in smoldering but an ever so gently release 

soothe me, burn me, turn me to the wind 
hold me, scold me, tell me that I’ve sinned 

the warning heeds itself
never tell an untrue tail to the river
flowing descendants on to the rocks so strict and strong 
they give way

the river cannot flow itself when it seeps dirty water
as untrue as it is muddied 
rippled, riddled and ridiculed by a beast 

jump in, the children’s tail awaits
the bridge longs your soft uneven steps from underneath
safety in the darkness, safety in the smoke, little Gruffalo

coal in the ocean, bubbled and steady through patience

tolerate her 

sliding tectonic plates, volcanic explosions? 
Cease says the river and the smoke burns white
Peace says the slither from the distanced height 

We await the word from God as though we’re in need
a flock graze, guided when told

Does a sheep tell a Sheppard when to lead it?
Black sheep, white sheep 

Woolen pits and consumption 
nibble away and slick up water, mindless
peaceful protests 
Her chaos is not fire

Chaos is the coal in my belly

maintaining the balance, 
cellar doors close and open,
window panels slam shut and gaze open too,

a wind that they can feel and we don’t

because we simply are.

 

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