I rattled all the chains

in the old kingdom.

Thinking I was wind

or dirt, or rain.


A ghost

pressed in

the miles thick earth.


A whisper stoked

by worms

or armored friends.


The bark fed climb

and I’ll be rising.

Find me calling

fresh, reborn



© Angela Bigler 2013


photo credit: Anita363 via photopin cc

2 thoughts on “spirit

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