Saturday, March 13, 2010

Tonight, i am over here

Odilia Rivera Santos

I am writing so I don't forget who I am even if you never see what I've written.
it was never things that mattered
or the attentions of men or jealousies and pettiness that abound . . .
it was never about having anyone fall to his or her feet
to do my bidding
peace - it was just that.
Plain with no sugar sprinkled on top
because plain unadulterated peace had a sweetness that was
but full of depth
is there cruelty sometimes in the ways in which I push at those things that threaten?
it's ok to think so because
perfection was also not something that mattered
it was a thing
a possession to be borrowed for seconds
and returned with no rightful owner

it is night
it is cold
the wind does howl as so many other writers before me have said and others after me will say
words comfort and lend me
a voice and their perfect peace
to be returned


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