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Body shook, drum-heart pounding in my temples
until it matched the beat resounding from beneath my feet --
and then the world slowed down for me,
a figment of perception,
but an answered prayer all the same.
If I had been able to, I would have sucked death right out of you,
caught it in my hands,
flushed it down to where the dead things are
below the cities -- cracked sewers and clogged pipes
connected to classrooms filled with television-eyes.
In school I was taught that God was dead,
but when I insert my fingers into the gashes,
I feel an evident pulse.
God isn't dead, just extremely sick,
patiently waiting for a decent medical doctor
to restart the ventilator.
When my heart stops,
I pray that it happens while in the forest,
far away from strangers celebrating store-bought holidays
all year round. When my heart stops,
I hope to have one more moment
to celebrate what truly counts to me
before roots and teeth reclaim my flesh,
because there truly is no place like home.
2015 Kanata Remix