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Between Worlds

Asleep in green water drifting past my reservation’s shore,
dream river carries me over history’s broken door.
Temporal lobes, grey stones, rolls of creativity flow
into a boundless reservoir.
Fear’s forgotten, how still I am.
If not careful here, I’ll forget myself, immersed.
Or, will I float into ancestral stars?

Between Worlds

Asleep in green water drifting past my reservation’s shore,
dream river carries me over history’s broken door.
Temporal lobes, grey stones, rolls of creativity flow
into a boundless reservoir.
Fear’s forgotten, how still I am.
If not careful here, I’ll forget myself, immersed.
Or, will I float into ancestral stars?

Kelle Grace Gaddis  51, Choctaw and Irish American

 
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