Veda Hille Corridor
How is it: growth becomes betrayal?
Every step a nail in some forsaken attic box
Don’t stop, don’t stop, keep walking
Can’t you see the grieving?
On small feet, I am leaving
Choose joy, choose sleep, choose solitude
Death is distant buzzing
Insects rise to your passing
As you walk the narrow green
To get your clothes clean
Again, again, take refuge in the written
Flatten the swelling of your empty church heart
Don’t stop, don’t stop
The cost of giving is receiving
On slow feet, I am leaving, I am leaving
Some do
Come through
The window
Some do
Come through
The window
Some do
Come through
The window