Alive (By Catherine Matchuk)

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A heavy weight against the heart
can only slow the beating.
It does not stop, merely pulsing.
Weak, but alive.

Wooden splinters of the bed
scratch and burn her skin.
Sleep eludes her, dreams remain.
Faint, but alive.

Hidden beneath the gravels of time,
threatened to be buried.
The sun pulls the hands through the rust.
Broken, but alive.

Hollow voices echo loudly,
disrupt a comfortable home.
Softer voices speak above all.
Frightened, but alive.

The harrowing journey is twisting,
paralyzed to take the first step.
She looks to the stars, looking for answers
“Help me, I’m alive.”

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