
Order Xanax No Prescription The Poet Watches © 2014 Bo Mackison
https://www.parolacce.org/1233521495418_f/ the poet watches
the branches shake the yellowed leaves
she watches the leaves scatter,
some rustle along the path
others snag in a ragged patch of grass.
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of the first snowfall, the winds, the frozen landscape
exposed, sharp silhouettes of branches.
frost-bitten garden sagging under the weight of
dead flower stalks and ice crusted snow.
go to site she watches, and silence breaks open
so much change. yet. alive.
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in the center of the temple, a labyrinth
in the center of the labyrinth, desertlands.
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anxiety dissipates in the arid breeze.
where is the safe space?
a perimeter protected by cacti tangled,
various structures and textures
occasional blooms, fuchsia-orange roses.
hummingbirds dart amidst bees.
go here safe. protected. alone, heart beat though erratic,
I find protection. from whom? from what?
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source link cocoon, hide within the dark. they say.
if i do not speak, I cannot be heard, cannot be hurt
by words, or looks, or judgements.
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no feelings exist for no one knows.
enter site yet
it is when i am not seen, when i am not heard,
the pain spreads like toxic fluids touched on fire by the sun

go Refreshed © 2014 Bo Mackison
go there is a place of safety within,
my words my protection.
my knowledge my salvation.
my awareness my life line.
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ablaze. speak. act. be visible.
enter site fire burns away old perceptions which pronounce
i am not enough. flames explode,
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step into the dawn, carrying the empty urn.
