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slow not my heart
in the shade of forsaken
to gather as dust
in yesterday’s war –
left in a room
with pictures and promise
piano nobody plays

save not my name
for sunday night vigils
or prayers at the end –
(at the end)
of your day

take not these eyes
as sweet consolation –
for others
here passing
in life unafraid

seal not these lips
with burdens of silence
or kisses
ten thousand
know of these lands
sleep in these pastures –
but guard not the longing
(to rise)
from your soul

spare not remission
for moments revealed
as poured from the deep –
(let it flow)
spare not excuses
for some errant life
or linger the night
letting go

breathe not a word
of the story unfolding –
yet slow not my heart
in your shade

. . .