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The Swamp

I haven't done anything today the exhaustion is strong Holding me at the base of my neck, like a mother lion holding her young. I have seen two bees though - they came to the window like an invitation. So I took a short walk in a fierce breeze My hands got sticky when I peeled an orange I thought I should be doing something important I tried to nap, but my mind kept thinking about my ancestors. I thought - I should write But all my body wants to do is stare out a window to see how many more bees will come. There's a swamp inside, filled with all the days I haven't watched haven't felt haven't been grateful to and now, now, now - it's got me. Something in my body knows that it can rest like never before can miss (dead)(lines) and people will understand can maybe even withhold rent and I'll be in the majority. So this swamp I've been trudging in, Filled with cat tails and red winged blackbirds Flourishing with bacteria and moss and thick dark mud, This vibrant home of my body I've been too busy to notice, Has made its move, claimed my attention, Grabbed my legs and whispered, "enough."

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