Grow Slowly

In silence,
the root behind,
each plaster filled,
fracture,
creeps slowly upon,
misplaced steps,
and quickening paces.

There are no gardens,
in the absence,
of flowers.

-Melissa Nielsen

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napowrimo day 29: concrete noun

With thoughts of honey,
I’ll build a hive,
a sweet flavored home,
in which I’ll hide.
In a tree,
amidst salt waters,
I am a mountain,
incognito,
I stand tall,
when I’m unseen.
I’ll build my home,
where you can’t find me.

-Melissa Nielsen

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napowrimo day 26: future archeologist

These were the beings who,
manufactured,
a finite measurement,
for the infinite quantity.

They were humanity,
constantly conscious of the,
tick. tick. ticking.
They created.

And to this momentum,
indefinitely moving forward,
humanity felt forced,
to shed,
the weight of itself.

This is a remnant,
of all the lives lived slaves,
in a race,
quickly! sprinting! begging!
For an end.

-Melissa Nielsen

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napowrimo day 24: ekphrasis

Should I never,
turn and,
attack.

I’d walk even further,
with your breath,
at my back.

I would run,
from you,
forever.

See everyone,
reach everything,
faster.

Though I would,
see things,
more clearly.

Should I stop,
leaving so,
quickly.

Would I meditate,
stop wishing,
stop yearning?

Shed burdens,
start listening,
start learning?

How can I know
where I’m going
looking back?

Shouldn’t I
turn and
attack?

-Melissa Nielsen

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