17. jan. 2014

Shake the dust

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This is for you.
And for the spring time, that some how seems to always show up after every single winter. 

Hele diktet, her.

(…) This for the benches and the people sitting upon them. For the bus drivers driving a million broken hymns. For the men who have to hold down three jobs simply to hold up their children for the night schoolers and for the midnight bike riders trying to fly. 
Shake the dust.

For the 2-year-olds who cannot be understood because they speak half-English and half-God. Shake the dust.
For the boys with the beautiful sisters. 
Shake the dust.
This is for the hard men who want love but know that it won’t come. For the ones who are forgotten. The ones the amendments do not stand up for. For the ones who are told to speak only when you are spoken to and then are never spoken to. Speak every time you stand, so you do not forget yourself. Do not let a moment go by that doesn’t remind you that your heart beats thousands of times every day and that there are enough gallons of blood to make every one of us oceans. Do not settle for letting these waves settle and for the dust to collect in your veins.

Make this not just another poem that I write. Not just another poem like just another night, that sits heavy above us all. Walk into it, breath it in. Let it crawl though the halls of your arms, like the millions of years of millions of poets coursing like blood, pumping and pushing, making you live, shaking the dust. So when the world knocks at your door, clutch the knob tightly and open on up. And run forward. Run forward as fast and as far as you must. Run into its widespread greeting arms with your hands outstretched before you, fingertips trembling though they may be."

- Anis Mojgani - 

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