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Spoken Silence
May my open door accept death;
May my welcoming arms embrace you.

Come inside
    From the cold wet snow.
Let me greet you
    Where the staff of the rich bound the poor
    When floods meet the sanctuaries of the divine.

May my soul not escape the serpent of death;
May my feet be always planted on soil of the mother.

Take everything
    From the dignity of myself, the bloody boar.
Let me taste your decrepit sickle
    Stretch the carefully honed blade
    Across thy impeccable neck.

May you sharpen your hunt;
May you disengage the roots of my teeth.

Disembowel me
    Carve loose the very insides which define me.
Let me be drained by your fury
    Sever off thy tasting instrument
    Fill my open passages with leeches.

May you lead the wrath upon me;
May you abduct my spirit forever.

Prevail life
    Seize my wisdom.
Let me decompose to pure cypher
    Lay in thy body excrements
    Smolder in the acids of my entity.

May I become dead without one last cry.
May I profess the love I have lost,
    For I am to die.

 2005 David Greg Harth