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Posts Tagged ‘books’

Every Time

 

 

and after the lights were out

and after my mother had kissed me goodnight

I would pull from under my pillow

 

the book, the flashlight, and for hours

in the quiet house, no matter how difficult

the day had been, no matter how low I felt,

 

for those hours I was so glad to be alive

in someone else’s story, and every time,

when I when I tugged long enough on its lines,

 

I could not help but notice

how each story was my story, too.

 

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The words that will change us

remember, perhaps,

when they were first found

by the person willing

to serve them—

 

they carry in their serifs

a willingness to wait,

late nights of wrestling silence,

the wing of receiving, the joy

in sharing the gift.

 

When we read them, they enter us

like tiny notes in a score we never knew

we were part of until one day

there is music everywhere

and we are the ones being sung.

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reading the book again—

the dogeared pages the same,

the story in them, wholly changed

 

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One Revelation

 

 

 

turning the last page

of our lives, perhaps then

we finally get to read

the glossary to see

what all those symbols meant

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One Taboo

 

 

 

the book burning

turning the pages of char—

a blaze of orange butterflies

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