Soul Pressed Poetry

Poetry that comes from our soul.

each wave strikes me (17 July 2011)

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I ran to the edge, boulders
marking safe from peril

I slipped down the face
momentum dropping me

near the white cracks of sea

white is a colour
that looms from darkness

those fingers reach out
clawing

those hands could grab my feet
taking me

taking everything from me

I am the scream
that cannot echo

amongst the waves, sound
drowns

each wave strikes me
I feel the pull of death

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