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
![Anke Hodenpijl](https://writersofkern.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/anke-hodenpijl1.jpg)