Shriveling strangers, stumbling
With tiny fingers, fumbling
Words around, discovering
Places they have yet to rediscover
Shaking bodies, tripping
With small feet, slipping
Into gallows, ripping
Hearts outside of the suburbs
Worship they who not hides, but opens
Their wounds, jumping
Outside of their comfort zones instead of closing
Dance among the sheep who choose not to be herded
Flee to the scabs they call humans who show what they’re made of
Watch them scramble for rehydration
Hold onto the skin in which cascaded you
Covered you when you no longer sought shelter
Allow others to wrap their loving solidarity around you to shed some light onto your palms
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I’m a hopeless dancer so while this is a great poem, it makes me feel bad 😦