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Tuesday, September 5, 2017

Transformed



Transformed

I hold on in my sleep
clenched fists
awakening with aching fingers
empty hands...

"It hurts, it hurts, it hurts," 


I think to myself

drifting back into the same nightmare...
footsteps heavy, looming shadows,
and then the comforting sound of
your voice calling my name

"It hurts," I whisper


as your gracefully opened palms

receive my falling tears
iridescent crystals
spilling through your familiar, outstretched fingers

"I will hold it for you," you repeat softly

until my eyes begin to flutter open

...and for awhile


this pain


beautifully transformed


Angela Minard 2017©

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