Actvist's Elegy - a "rough" free-write

arms waving madly

They scatter

laughing

at the old madwoman

that is you

*

And a small hard seed of grief

bursts

grows a beanstalk in your chest

to what some call heaven

infinite sky so far

you can never reach

the end of it

And an anger, slow ember of hate

shields your grief

You feed it, read

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