Perspective

She stood before her gods

dazed like a zombie

the mountains are calm

outside my house

they flow in that zigzag path

and the trees are there listening

“goddess” she cried out

and that patch of houses

is glorious

in the valley below

we cannot understand

white and green

standing in the branches

so pretty

the suffering

it must be painful

let me go let me go she screamed

she thought she was 34

I look at that bald patch of brown

in the mountains

you cannot believe anything

I know

my move here

still the hills and the darkness

hold me in their arms

each night

and the birds come

and peck at my window

their red hoods

their yellow and brown bodies

and the squirrels run in the teak forest outside

we are torn and stitched together somehow

the calm in the mountains

will go with the clouds

but I will hold your hand.

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