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Artwork by Monica Stewart

what force am i?
what gale, hail, thunderclap precedes my presence?
i tear souls
leave vacuums that conjure madness
what force am i?
i go on
thinking nothing of myself
a force unreckoned
by she who wields it in absentia.

is it my scent?
my generosity?
all i want
is to leave
without causing pain

the blankness of enriqueta's eyes
shell distraught and unspeaking
the moments of silence when i tell the next good friend why

no one expresses joy, relief at my going
one well wisher, maybe two
but all with a tinge of sadness
not many willing to explore the depths of their grief
it simply plain, on their faces.

i don't want control of the weather
have no love for the making of grieving hearts
i want to go dancing
the sun out
Mama smiling, for once,
as i catch the plane to Philly
new destiny, advisor,

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