She stood there: about her feet: copper amber lead
~colors in a flutter, in a cyclone, in the midst of death~
Her face wrenched with grief: for the loss of time, loss of light, loss of green
All around her autumnal jubilee, where hollow sockets of knotted branches curved a smiling eye
And I, alive in a season of transition and reflection, felt the weight of existence in the locked out breath I couldn’t invite
Her pain: the unrelenting ache of dark that dragged before her
Winter cold shakes not a corpse, but inters fear in souls bound~unfound
E.A. O'Connell
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