Being Sky

As the grave clothes unwind
too slowly, I admit,
I find myself perceiving
that I never ever fit
into the shroud of my
own perceptions.

Clouded by the mist and fog
and fearing to know why,
I allowed them to inter me
and block me from the sky.

One day soon I will be free
of hanging on the earthly tree.
And knowing that I’ll stand
and rise, touching stars,
being sky.

Vicki Woodyard

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