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  • Linda M. Crate

Rid of Darkness

this is not what i wanted

for who would care

to die?

i did not want to take death's hand,

but neither of you asked;

took from me without permission

robbing me of the person i once knew

as i grew where i was planted

buried face first beneath the snow—

the sun was my hero along with my mother moon

who stitched my sobbing frame together without scorn or coldness

simply listening to my prayers and my sadness then pulling

my corset of life tighter dispelling all the pain

until it rushed out of me like flowing water

i saw the darkness you gave me leaving and i did not mourn

any longer.

—linda m. crate


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