All those amputated parts of
ourselves, which grew from us as
dreams, reached for future years,
as real as any part of us breathing,
and then... came the time to cut
them, the time of the axe and
the saw, the time of burning,
our cut limbs rising as ash,
like above a hospital
when they burned
that limb whose
ghost you
still felt.
08.03.2023
#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse
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