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Poem — In The Congregation


In The Congregation
by Beth Elderkin

I am surprising myself
and the party of ghouls that follow me,
leaving breadcrumbs on my carpet.

I had set to become one, and now have become two.

Your wings carry you, flightless birds
soaring over tea shops and winding rivers.
I wait behind, as I have never done
counting the moments
as they have never passed.

What is this beat that stirs inside me?
It tingles, tickles, flutters.
I’ve seen looks I cannot stare down,
words I cannot silence.

My mind pulses with memory;
shocked as I take the icy plunge.
Too fast. Too slow. Too much.

You wait beside the winding river. I soar, warm and swift.

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