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Sunday, August 19, 2012

Umbra

my ears drown to the only feedback
fading with the sinking sun;
dusk shouts the final stage of my shadow

as the grass gleams with darkness
helping the guidance of the second spirit
my cheeks fill with whispering tear drops

a strange kingdom of relative faces
turns my thinking into fear and
releases a question

if realization has nowhere to begin the
fantasy of death, then
how do we begin to die?

***

contempt of fate;
trapped between judged veins
our shadows lie beneath with no light to
tell us our life

like dirty secrets
consummated by shameful blood
freedom is at an expense
bringing one day filled with

no cause for alarm
nor excessive worry, and
our shadows hang above us
creating our own angels


©Andrea Laws (Author) December 6th, 2013