In years I had lost the I
from the lines, I wrote.
I had hidden myself
in the tears of others
where if you were keen
enough you might have
seen my shadow cast
by the fire of their anger.
I was behind the curtain
of impotence worn
by the ones who fear
the wrath of the powerful,
breathing mantras of hope
in whispers, they wouldn’t
have failed to hear.
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