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Colour of Earth
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Should I be
an aqueduct of faith
flowing and falling
onto the paralyzed streets?
I know flowers
are infinite. I know the way is
risk. But I cannot climb
that blistered mountain
or hope for a gentle wind to save.
My mirror-ghost rises whole
with tangible flesh, too visible to bear.
And clouds obsess me.
Green forever. Green is
the ego waning and love
that grows in wild orchards.
Red is our age and our wait
for greatness inside the owl call.
Turn here, turn there – kill
the wheel and the virgin flight.
So much unanswered. So much
we must inevitably lose.
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Copyright © 1991 by Allison Grayhurst
amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst
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Published in “Medusa’s Kitchen” May 2018
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.ca/2018/05/a-great-wind-came-rushing.html
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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:
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