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The Bluffs

by Christel Crews

The world revolves, moving back would be tragic
and I sit on the canyon's cliff, watching
the vultures encircle their prey

The winds to my right say
they are creatures of habit,
doing only what they know,
what they were born to do

While the whispers on my left
ask how they could kill such
twisted innocent unsuspecting victims
and deem the birds evil, blinded sinners

And I am severed into pieces
Pulled by each wind in their own direction
Yet I don’t know how or even where to stand
As I sink in the quicksand of division

06/04/2014

Author's Note: title suggestions???

Posted on 06/07/2014
Copyright © 2024 Christel Crews

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 06/07/14 at 06:04 PM

Unique, evocative piece of work, Christel. Maybe 'Into Pieces' as a title as that's what you seem to be doing here, in addition to the confirmation of L1 in S4. Good luck, sometimes a better title will ccme out of nowhere, and when you least expect it. :)

Posted by David Maurice on 06/07/14 at 06:36 PM

I'd like to call this 'The Bluffs' but I couldn't give you the slightest reasoning.

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