New York, NY 7:14am

by Joanna

The synchronicities are running quickly, double, triple
The words barely crawl from my fingertips
I am drawn out and solidly seeing my life
Slipping through fingers overrun with oil
Oh, perhaps its olive
or grapseed
light and soft among the rough edges of my cuticles
I find the atmosphere warm
And even though I am grasping for the rope
I find a serenity I have not known for quite some time
This place has a HOLD on me
a strong grip about my waist
as I am working myself loose from my own bondage
I find anew the path
and find anew the rising sun as my friend
I am opening the doorway to a new future
One that is filled with the promise of a new day
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