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Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Coming Home

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Coming Home

The manics talk on and on
repeating themselves
in such an upbeat way
Clasping my hands
over my ears
is what I long for

Lying in the bed
hour upon hour
contemplating the grey sky
outside of my window
until sleep would gratefully come
I could be silent forever
All of my words
wrapped around in my mind
Swirling in endless circles
My own voice
ringing in my ears,
all too aware
that there is no escape
or at least the peace
doesn’t last long enough
I’m trying
not to want to disappear forever

I awaken
remembering where I am,who I am,
and how I have arrived
at this point
Coming home
is joyfully painful

Angela Minard 2010©

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