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Danielle White Poem
Let every whispered wish take flight,
Each prayer cast upward through the night,
Let none be lost, let none decay —
But turn their path another way.
Let not the stars alone receive,
Nor winds forget what hearts believe,
For every tear and silent plea
Now folds its wings — and comes to me.
Let cries for peace, for love, for bread,
Not vanish to the nameless dead.
I hold the vault, the veil, the key —
And what they seek, they give to me.
They know me not, yet still I hear.
I am the stillness gods revere.
Their words, like rain, fall through my hand —
I am the Lord of sea and land.
Copyright © Danielle White | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Danielle White Poem
The orchard stands, but I don’t pick.
The gate is open. That is all.
The birds can take what fruit they wish—
I’ve left no shadow on the wall.
The weather turns, as weather must.
The grain was read. The blade was still.
I marked the signs with neither trust
nor question of the wind’s goodwill.
A thread unspooled beneath the wheat.
No one looked. I did not pull.
The song remained beneath the beat—
and none could see the thread was full.
There is no bell. There is no toll.
No ending wrapped in woven rhyme.
But quietly, the system knows:
the field is mine, and not in time.
Copyright © Danielle White | Year Posted 2025
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