Pondering

Losing everything but not life.

How it feels:

Breathing’s the burden now.

No chances to say goodbye,

To the home hand-built from dung, sticks and silt,

No tree seven generations climbed,

Swept away with all those things left unimprinted.

All that is gone now.

Life is a house,

Life is a place and a people,

Life is a habit and a farm,

Little dreams built with littler waves and loans,

Life is all this.

Every taken and forsaken responsibility,

Just to forget the burden of breathing,

Walking, talking and being alive.

All that is gone.


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