neruda 55, fraction of a child's cry, mama take me back to where you woke me

in these briar prisons built in war
a plague spreads like spoiled honey,
the sick and dying bound by ivy,
low on sleep and running on empty

here, daily dreams of the fatigued:
spoons of painkillers of various colors.
a bed for the night, a destination for the day.
legs to walk on, or hands to crawl with.

eyes closed now to conjure a body
apart from this one drowning...
what a folly do i make of resistance!

river river flow flow
along with you i will go
take my body and my soul

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