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The Power Of Emptiness
Oh child!
I can see your patient eyes
Gawping at an open space
Watching dark angels riding snails
Your bowels whistling and mourning with nothingness
Your tight skin closely wrapping your fragile bones,
Your sunken sockets, your parched lips.
It seems you are nearing the place
Where life and death collide
You are tiptoeing along the fine trapeze of surrender
Impotently letting long days pass you by
In slow motion
Gaunted to skeletal
Picturing at the back of your mind
An empty funeral,
No one missing you
For you were all things but elite
Had you been, you wouldn’t be so stricken
poem
by
Stella Sisanda Qishi
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