An Imperfect Journey
All Writing is by Deborah Hollins
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
I went to the river and the river was dry.
I walked the forest and the forest was brittle.
I hiked the earth and the earth was hard.
I shrieked for the end of all things.
I came to a snake; she had shed her skin.
She was near death, under the hot sun.
The earth cracked and split; within was a small baby.
I held her and she started to cry.
Her tears fell onto the earth and spread
to the rivers and forests; everything became soft.
My blood began to run again; I was growing young again
and old at the same time.
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February 1, 2016 at 9:37 PM
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