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Friday, May 12, 2017

only to discover the encounter to be alien to this place

Some years there exists a wanting to escape...

you, floating above your certain ache—  

still the ache coexists.

Call that the immanent you—

You are you even before you

grow into understanding you

are not anyone, worthless,

not worth you.

Even as your own weight insists
you are here, fighting off
the weight of nonexistence.

And still this life parts your lids, you see
you seeing your extending hand

as a falling wave—

Claudia Rankine.


May 12, 2017 | Permalink


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