Poetry

The Line

Fingers

Pressing on my brain

It hurts

And then I see it

The living

Hand and hand

With the dead

 

Circles around the world

Telling of all

A split second

A memory

An experience

From long ago

 

On my eyes

Imprinted

My own finger marks

In black and white

Pressed against my face

To see within

 

Stretching for eternity

A line of people

I see it again

Those people

Cells inside me

Those people

Before me

Starting with

A single cell

Ending with

My mother

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