Day 53: Weeping blackbird

Do not disturb me

I can barely move

I do not wish to

Let me sit

Quiet and unhindered

As the pages softly turn

And the wind scatters apple petals

Across the garden

I am holding something

So small and secret

That I cannot see it

With waking eyes

The feeling


But I dare not say it aloud


I cannot name it

For to name is to give it power



It sits deep inside

And defuses a taste

Or colour

To everything

So subtle it cannot be seen

Not even violent enough to be fear

Nor boisterous

But gentle

Like a weeping blackbird

Hidden in the bush

Grief takes over

Some days

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