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October 30, 2019

 Published on the Ancient Paths Facebook page on February 23, 2019. 


We walk with hands swinging at our sides
hair in varying degrees of tidiness.
Our faces aren’t smeared with dirt.
Blood flows in our veins—red.
And yet I can’t say we’re living

If we remembered the scent
of still-warm blood from someone
who couldn’t stay dead.
Maybe then we’d wake to something
beyond what’s just ahead.

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