In the light

and you tell him


i do not have the space.

to hold.

all this.

in the raven, the birds fly wild,


And I,

hid the hunger,

within my ribs.

to hold his sorrow,

and your sorrow,

and this sorrow,

within my hands,

that hurt,

with the heavy,

and within my heart,

that hurts, hurts, hurts, hurts,

with the heavy.

in the stories sewn,

silver on our skin,

there is a silence cold,

with longing.

in the end

we are bone and soul and dreams.

in tragedy

there’s a darkness that claims

hostage to our faces-

you are all the ways they broke you.

When you learn to give up,

there’s a crack through the middle.

and you refuse to burn, tired,

but the fire burns despite you.

In this earth-space, there is no room

For breaking.

Don’t tell of the ugly, now.

dont give up on the light.

under the grieving moon,

there is still an answer,


don’t believe, i tell him,

in the darkness, more than

you believe,

in the light.

Now is not the time.


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