We walk upon these wooden floors–
Worn-down paths and broken boards,

Until a splinter breaking free,
Passes every boundary,

Wends its way beneath the flesh
And aims to merge itself with us.

Some mirror of life unlived, untried,
Aims to bed its starry bride.

Tear through dense skin, remove this root,
Feel the tension in the foot,

Then release as wings unfold
And our feet leave the ground below.


About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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  1. Creative Every Day, Part 4 « Looking for Roots - January 25, 2010

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