A Poem Found Me

 What?

I wait motionless in silence, hearing nothing but the brush of my hair against the pillow fabric and the casual whirr of traffic beyond the window glass.

I expect the Earth to shake.

Or that waters will well up.

Shall fire sweep in with the wind?

Even still, I prize the void.

(Art credit: “Sacred Rectangle” rock formation; Tiger R., age 7)

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