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painting prayers


it feels ludicrous

indulgent

to make art

at 2pm

on a tuesday.


children scream

and play

outside.


the sun shines

past groundhog day

clouds.


i don't know

if he saw his

shadow.


i haven't seen

mine, haven't

stepped outside.


but despite all my

hesitations

procrastination


creation happens


like the imbolc seeds

that are making

their way beneath

the surface

the destruction is

never complete.


they're still swirling

deep.


i anchor myself

to this still-wet

page.


their tears,

my own confusion,

the darkness of these

days.


i don't know what it looks

like to hold light.


or space.


i don't know how to

show up.


so i sit here,

fingerpainting

freedom,

finding love in the

crevices of pain.





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