It

April 7, 2008
By Rebecca Giglio, New City, NY

It’s everywhere I am, it is
Upon the path I walk amiss
The soil softens, weighed down in fear
To break the ground that holds me here

The air polluted with its flavor
Soot- the only taste to savor
Fills your lungs with such remedy
The only guaranteed therapy

Like chains around my hands, it is
Can’t free myself in fear that if
I break the chains- then death alone
Will with one finger mark the stone


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