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Walking through Weeds

Walking through Weeds




touches the sky.

Foot falls.

Clay upon clay,

Yet somewhere in between the weeds gleam

happy, untrustworthy grins.

Leeching nutrients from the dust of labored hands,

they find their way

to all corners,

lying in wait..

for something beautiful to grow,

so that the green arms can engulf the persistence

of a growth

natural resistance,

with bitter sap

that poisons pure benefit that was given to the doubt.

Legs rise,

arms fly,

Armor encases,

Amore unlaces


That should have stayed as dormant seeds.

-Kashmir Maryam, 2014

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