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the faded doormat declares ‘home’
at the foot of this haunted house
where we close our eyes, salute tradition
(and endure, only to wither)
as time grows long and parched;
where our shells dwell and hearts take flight
to the tunes of a ruinous, stagnant past
nailed to the doors; totems of yore
sealed with bloody kisses, entombed
to bury prospects forever.

here we vegetate; naked eye and callused feet
ancestor’s footsteps well-stocked with glowing embers
where the blatant chains weigh us down
we hold the torch till days turn to dust.
how shall we roam free
if trapped by shame,
if held by a name –
if our graves are dug before we live?
claim tomorrow, repel the bonds
and find your Own, far beyond the ruins.

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… my part of I Have Longed To Fight This Li(f)e.
JC, you are right. It is definitely interesting to have a look at both pieces separately. Totally different when each stands alone. Mr. Thomas’ work can be found here. Thanks for the nudge!

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