RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Pastures Of Being
Listening to inner measures of time, portraying the years I have lived.
Following my heart, choosing my own paths to bring me home to pastures of my being.
Selectively touching heart-strings, pacifying inner turmoil left from yesterday's years of abuse.
Whistling down darkened aisles, hoping to keep away frightening images, trying to attack me again.
Pushing away memories, allowing me to shake off and revive in a sandstorm of strife.
Painfully aware of pivoting into pools of suicide.
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