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February is the Longest Month

I stand in the way of growth
frozen in place
so long have I been without the sun
Deeply have I settled
among grass roots and leaf mould
a pebble among pebbles.
Perhaps now I am laid to rest.
A push.
             A shove.
A struggle and gasp
as green soldiers reach up
in their search for spring,
hands pressed in prayer.
I, pebble among pebbles,
am pushed a
                       side
by the prayer-pressed hands.
But I’ll wait a little longer
for the world to turn,
and I may become a seed.
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Liv is an urban monk, a poet, a painter, a birder, and a student of Christian Spirituality. She has been engaged in creative writing more or less consistently for two decades and was slightly startled, though far from displeased, to discover that poetry is her medium. When she’s not writing, Liv practices gardening, pipe-smoking, leather-working, and mischief. She has been published in Loft Books, The Blue Daisies Journal, The Way Back To Ourselves, and Vessels of Light. Peeks into her work can be found on Instagram and Twitter.

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