They Say Vulnerability is a Sign of Weakness

All day long, I wait as an offering,

insides turned out- skin, flesh, bones-

prepared like an open feast,

all for the birds to eat.

My hands outstretched, I wait for them

to come and perched on my stiff shoulders;

to peck on my eyes and to peel away

layers upon layers of muscles and sinews

until they get to gobble my heart

which still grows on its own

as long as I stand on this very ground.

This ground…this fickle mistress

Of both death and life.

Seasons upon seasons, I stand here-

Never wincing at the pain.

Children cry at my demise

But I laugh as the birds devour.

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To My Dying Dog

Close your eyes.

Let the pain pass, the sickness wash over your tiny body.

It will be over soon.

Do not search for me. Do not fight it anymore.

Everything would soon be better

When you return where you once came from.

There, there.

This is hard for both of us, I know.

I lament the lack of time.

I lament over the memories we haven’t made yet.

I lament that you have to go soon.

So here.

Take this piece of my heart

And run towards vaster lands.

Eat it. This is my last gift to you.

We both need to be strong for your journey:

Strong enough to leave.

Strong enough to stay.