March

Today the demons bare their fangs:
Stench of memory, misplaced identity,
Years of acquired security rearrange;
Yield in perfect complicity.

Old mother habit picks up my load
Upon my back, instinctively move.
Pavement footfalls grind the road,
Carving out my ancient groove.

But the air is fresh and feels like home.
I am, again, where I grew
Untended, unnoticed, unknown,
In the eyes of God, who always knew.

I walk these prayers in solitude.
Our relationship matures through time.
I drop my guard until I’m nude;
Vulnerable before Divine.

When the sky, in gracious black,
Spreads to cover the bit of me,
Though my feet just circle back,
I know this journey is complete.

Once again I laugh above, breathe beneath;
Slurp the wine, and sip the dregs.
For these demons have their razor teeth,
But they have such puny little legs.

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