Protect Me

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for a span
of time
thin as paper,
she believed
there was still
a reason
for hope.

there wasn’t one
after all.

in a room lit with
dying candles she
crouches, rocking
back and forth
like an ancient crone,
long given to
the means of grieving.

she chants a mantra:

protect me from love.
protect me from love.
protect me from love.

by A. Murray
February 8, 2010