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Saturday, December 19, 2020

Winter Writing Sanctuary, 2.3 Honouring the melancholy, Invitation J: Feeling it




The Art of Extinguishment

I can hardly keep
my eyes open,
drenched in 
this bone-
tiredness.
I crawl into
bed, my pillow,
a temple, 
and blanket
myself with 
blessed dark. 
Tomorrow is
an alien ship
I will not
board 
for now. 
There is
nothing wrong
with
rest. 

Justine C. Tajonera
Image by Quin Stevenson of Unsplash

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