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Sanctuary

I need a sanctuary,
something more than
a pocket,
a moment,
a glimpse,
or a feeling.

I need a place,
a person,
to run to.

I need to discover new things with you
and you, with me.
I need to hear the sound of running water
and ask
"what's that?"
like the people of the First Nations
in old Canada's history.

In the evening
I want you
to show me where you came from,
the streets you ran,
the people you hung out with
in the old neighborhood.
You've really no idea
how healing that is for me
on every single level,
how much peace it brings me
in the middle of all this.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 

Comments

frost on the words in the air
the fire gone low
frost creeping in
the shivers
but the lighting is beautiful
windows are tallow boxes
of hope
even on the wretched part
of town where you hear
them swearing at each
other...the hopeless
edge...the crying baby
the mother screaming
"Your just like your father
shut the fuck up"
the sweat of summer
as a couple screeches
too a halt beside U on
a bike..his fists a flurry
but Im already late for
my mission...U get
involved...no charges
she visits him in
jail..they look for U
later...whats the point
Like american in Nam
like a black at the
buffalo boarder
Like an indian in
a mustang getting
his car ripped apart
better then in the bad
part of town...
whever everything
gets kicked in including
your head...

We want something different
a fresh breath of air too our
stale establishment of existance
a view with eyes engrained
with a thousand yard scenery

boreal...thats whats different
then the carolinian forests
a little more brush
more rough
not the brooding trunks
meadows
scraggly and wild

we dont have guns
but U still watch ur six
bears are close here
and wolves have been
seen more daring
cross between coyote
or are they just getting
more curious about us
they will inflict much
deadly force these
predators
and the predation of
man
always here

like norway....the glaciated
remains...the claybelts
scultped....its got something
and the cold and snow
will kill U...we just run from
bus to village or car
expensive too buy proper
clothing...forty below and
U see people that would
perish five miles from
town on a sunny day...
as if unaware

pocket

pocketbooks
talismans
I carry mine
all the time
and in all
of they..
the ones who
leant me
their ear
time
space
I am with
they...

thank U!

your poem makes
me think

random moments brought me the most value in talking to strangers
how that trust comes easy
the intuitive know...

I travelled much..hitchiked hung out at cities
met people....maybe it was the height
or the suredness beaering I carried
but many I talked with...
having being the middle child
and parents who were great
and treated us like friends
sparring no rods
and putting in much humor
and empathy
and dark
we were never sheltered
about what the world
was..and groomed
on how to be diplmoatic
and keep safe enough...

and I was very negative
for years....
no light shone in my prison
of self..
narcism and a very anti social
vend....
a dangerous mix
for years...

but i ran with a strange pack
of creative men
and then the women saved
me

they truly did
I have issues with them
I got abandoned and
had a dragon lady kind
and visious mother
so I hated and Loved
the women that saved
me knew the hate and love
walked me through it
I was their treasure
in my tomb
kissed the sleeping
battered old gnarly
knight awake
fed me from their
basket meant for
granny laying wasted
in the forest

women who loved
the wolves..
still...

otherwise..
it would have been
a different ending
for all

survival is the epitome
of sucess
for all...
not at the expense
of all others...

we all need a voice

thank U!

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