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365 Days of the Poet: Petal 42, "Untitled"


"Outskirts of Madrid", Artist unknown.


Someone once told me that I was brave.
Brave, not because I do not know fear,
but brave because I push forward
like some mulish clock, fighting upstream against time;
knocking knees and quaking boots,
clinging to the backbeat of my pounding heart.

I do not name this movement courage,
for I believe that even the mildest of animals
hold tight to hope’s blaze of survival.
And that self-loving spark can flare bright
when small ones need it most,
when every corner seems to cut and threaten.

For I have learned that I can thrive
when no one else is looking;
when the oven has gone cold
and there are no longer footsteps in the hall.
I have learned that with light and time
flowers push up through the rubble.

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