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Lift ThyselfWhat voice is this that lifts itself to me
in the darkest hours of the morn?
Whose cries are these that stir me in my slumber?
Love: I have heard your poor laments.
I have felt the tremors of your moving as a wave beneath my feet.
Oh, but how can you despair so deeply, love,
when you are so near to me?
When hands that molded you from clay and the saps of the earth
now linger gently on your brow?
I weep the morning dew and trouble the heavens with my woe,
that a thing so precious and so dear to me
should fret and forget his hallowed history;
that a creature such as you should spend but a moment
lost in the mires of despair.
Can you feel me – see how the water dries itself upon your cheek.
Can you hear me – listen for the stillness of the night.
Lift your hands where your laments have sullied sacred space
and stretch yourself to me – and I will cross the heavens
just to reach you, love,
to kiss your brow and tell you,
as I always have –
that you are not alone
Otherthey call it coffee,
but it’s not
they say it’s foreign
when it isn’t
they wave with big, gaping grins from the deck of a ship
that would sooner shear its hull to build a barrier
than cozy up
along that shore
they tell us not to worry, but we do
they tell us to be quiet
but we can’t help ourselves;
the noises bubble up and make a sound they call a laugh
– but isn’t
chewing mouthfuls of the stuff
that isn’t coffee
we wave back
with blistered arms –
they always call it other
when it’s not
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More