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Saturday, February 21, 2015

this is not a poem

this is not a poem
but a signal
of the whale
in the deep 
sea  of me

he who ate my soul
needs to come up
and spit it out,
he needs to blow
and breathe

and i don't know
which part of me
he will take
for his dive
into this ocean

maybe i should make
a sacrifice
to let him go
in peace
and not so heavy


and i can stay afloat
until i reach this shore
where the apples
fall from branches
in my garden


i still have a lot of work
to do in my garden.




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