shaking stacks of mountains
exhume sleeping
secrets
I am small.
I am afraid.
I want to live another day.
my backstreet to bliss
now crippled
agitated
chunked
Why do I run to that dangerous place?
Secrets smolder like last night’s campfire.
—Anke Hodenpijl
Your incredible poetry never fails to move me, Anke. This poem makes me feel the smallness and worry about the smoldering secrets exhumed. Thank you. xoA
Thank-you Annis.
Cool!
Dramatic and uniquely personal. Secrets amid the biggest mountains; powerful insights. TR