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Island Chain

I think that "island chain"
Must be an oxymoron
Like isolationists collective
A tight knit group of outcasts
We say that everything's connected
We consider ourselves fragments

Stained glass is made of pieces
Melted and conjoined
In heat they nearly lose themselves
In windows they are one
Are they gone before they're found?

I think it's good to grab the hand
Of a brother also deemed unclean
Alone we intertwine
Our fingers when in prayer
We hold on to ourselves

Together we can sometimes feel
The heartbeat of another
Pushing through their palms
Lying next to ours
Like blinkers on a car
That are just barely out of sync

It is better not to be alone
It is frightening to lose one's beat
We melt and join
Like island chains

Do not grieve the lose of voices in a room
Where everyone is speaking
But listen more intently
And try to discern pitches
We are alone together
Heartbeats dancing gracelessly
We smile

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