deepundergroundpoetry.com
Hymn to Circles
she folds herself
into fragile origami on the chair
hair draped across her cheek
she talks
of everything and nothing
her tiny paw clutching a stone
that gives her words
permission
to leave her throat
to become truths
to birth from her voice
sometimes I find it difficult
to come here at all and others
I watch her deconstruct gently
revealing pieces of herself
over and over
until
she is lighter somehow
until she teaches me
that to be reborn
means leaving
the safety of the womb
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