Witness
poem by e.e.cane
Jan. 23, 2021
Never still,
can't speak clearly with
all the movement
Once saw October awakening,
cool assurance piqued
through stillness and breeze
Three broken branches argued
on the way down, lay concealed beneath
leaves for all their chatter
Perhaps silence is a good thing
Allows focus on sweet memories,
deep enough for pride
When there breathes purity,
silence settles unseen,
unsaid
A witness bore me safely through my own chatter
that I have my awakening,
my assurance that I was here for these things
though I spoke of them not
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