POEM: RELEASE

Eye level
windows give us
visible crumbs
so we are not numb

Up the stairs
there is as much
within as there is without

In the hall
leading to the attic
the memories and times

I lived through
are frozen portraits
melting when they are replaced

In the attic
the hole in the roof
has lead to light

The sun's short beam
found a way between
my visceral and hidden mind

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Image source: https://unsplash.com/@mbrunacr