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All I am is layers upon layers,
wrapped up tightly,
swaddled like a baby,
taped up like a present,
layers upon layers
like an onion (or parfait).
And within these silky layers,
I hide my treasures
close to my heart,
close to my beating heart.
Treasures like stories,
a favorite film or book
or “a funny thing happened to me…”
Treasures like images,
faces of friends from long ago,
nightmares burned onto the screen,
portraits turned to landscapes.
Layers upon layers,
treasures upon treasures.
I pack them in tight as I can,
memories and dreams and wishes
and people living amongst
worries and concerns,
desires and thoughts,
prayers and losses,
layers upon layers
of emotions and treasures,
pain and peoples,
secrets and shame,
layers upon layers
of silky humanity
pulled tight
as covering
against the
chill of

‘Lazarus, Come Out’
I hear.
And yet I sit
in fear.

Posted under: Writing

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