There is a space
When tidal blood
Rushes outward
Pulled past the bruised shore
A moment of emptiness
of a heart unfilled

It knows
Knows that death comes
not in blows
but rather parched expectancy
in the dry beds of holding
It doesn't take much
to lay a heart flat

even as songlines fill
flood home in joyous influx
to a heart singing
It releases
in perfect trust
held breath draining
to stand bloodless
on the edge of death
or rebirth.

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