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Unburdening

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  Hymns once rattled stained glass and stone built to house the faithful.   In the middle of nowhere footprints ate grass, a biblical apocalypse growing dust where green once gathered.   When hallelujahs failed to grow numbers in pews, failure’s eye stared into the sun without repentance for planting doom where the meadowlark once sang.   Within the very echo of the last human leaving, bird, beast, and field gathered to redeem Eden from the curse of abandoned.   Revival now speaks in seeds and prayer rows of growing. Butterflies are winged notes singing praises for summer.   Crows own the pulpit, rainbows the baptistry. What man purloined; nature reclaimed. The tabernacle of Mother Earth grows stronger without walls. ©Susie Clevenger 2022 Earthweal Re-Wilding  

Dandelion Owl in Clouds of Concrete

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  In the backward forward I unravel, unfeather.   Destiny sits on my shoulder warning, “Use your voice to divide truth from the noise of what shouldn’t be heard. Earth spins on broken bones. Be the calm in the fire, balm for the wound.”   Today is what I’m given. Tomorrow is my hope.   I am one linked to the heartbeat of many. For every feather I’ve lost there’s a hundred forming new wings. I’m a dandelion owl trusting I can see change through clouds of concrete. ©Susie Clevenger 2022 Earthweal Re-Wilding

Pulled from Gray

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  Bottled Moon She poured moonlight into a bottle, dream elixir, perfume of wishes to place on her temples to protect her in the shadow winter of grief. ©Susie Clevenger 2022 Dandelion Skin I’m the wish grown from dandelion bouquets, and shades of moonlight. Rebellion’s child bold in yellow petals formed in stony fields of secrets. ©Susie Clevenger 2022 Apple in Water Tower Town I’m an apple in a water tower town. A sister serpent who doesn’t garden with a Bible or submit to a rib.   Branded a witch with banned book wings I collect whispers in journals and judgement in ink.   From the highest peak of narrow, I see what the faithful won’t hear. I’m in the left of right and preacher’s scape goat sermon Jezebel.  ©Susie Clevenger 2022 The Sunday Muse #219

Drunk on Images

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  Dressed for Consequences There is no romance in dread. It is a decayed ballroom where hell makes you dance the razor edge of making the wrong choice. ©Susie Clevenger 2022 Scars Uprising   In her garden of glass she was bold enough to grow among wounds. ©Susie Clevenger 2022 Spell of Paint   Art will find color in the deepest gray, find a path where night suffers without stars.   A paintbrush is the sorcerer’s wand casting its spell across canvas.   ©Susie Clevenger 2022

Feathers to Consider

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  Check the Microphone   His tongue has wings, his eyes a jar of rumors.   Give him an audience and he’ll poison a flock.   Be careful what your ears are fed. It’s hard to lose the weight of assumptions.  ©Susie Clevenger 2022 A Cage is a Cage Pretty wire doesn’t make a cage warmer. It doesn’t matter how much glitter is on the wings, the song will always cry freedom.  ©Susie Clevenger 2022 The Shadow in My Voice   Testing shadows to see how loud I can crow.   It’s in dark places you learn the strength of your wings. ©Susie Clevenger 2022 Owning the Glass   Check your reflection. You may not be pleased when someone else holds the mirror. ©Susie Clevenger 2022 The Sunday Muse #206

Dandelion in Organza

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We were ribbon hung like party favors, organza dolls with hair curled into the fantasy innocence didn’t have a price.   The feral me already knew the dark side of attention, the coffin sunlight becomes when a monster curtains tulips with his shadow.   Born without claws I learned to sharpen my tears into crybaby scalpels people would avoid because once the truth is opened eyes could no longer claim blindness.   A dandelion in a murmuration of starlings who devoured blue sky in the endless search to be called pretty, I grew in the spines of books, rainbows of escape, and the nurture of oak tree nanny’s that taught me how to stand through the harshest crushing wind.   ©Susie Clevenger 2022 Shay's Word Garden Word List #9        

Where Gods Are Deaf

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  Time feeds empty with growls and cardboard beggar notes littering sidewalks.   In the shadows where gods are deaf addiction writes funeral songs one needle at a time.   At the corner of destitute and gentrification money complains about dandelion homeless marring their patio view.   With huff and demand police arrive as badged gardeners to weed concrete of souls who are considered blight in the garden of profit prime real estate.  ©Susie Clevenger 2021 Word Crafters Prompt