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	<title>The Pedestrian Poet &#187; youth</title>
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	<description>Everyday a new poem, story, or photo telling the story of humanity</description>
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		<title>Winter&#8217;s Embrace</title>
		<link>http://www.multer.com/people/monica/2010/winters-embrace/</link>
		<comments>http://www.multer.com/people/monica/2010/winters-embrace/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 16 Dec 2010 23:51:28 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>monica</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[age]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[cold]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[death]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[loss]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[protector]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[sleep]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[winter]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[youth]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.multer.com/people/monica/?p=2713</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I am tired now let me sleep The little girl says in a voice scarred By winters claws in her throat Not yet, not quite yet Our feet drag in the snow Her little hand held loosely in my own If I can not feel my own hand How am I supposed to keep track [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="text-align: center;"><em>I am tired now let me sleep</em><br />
The little girl says in a voice scarred<br />
By winters claws in her throat<br />
<em> Not yet, not quite yet</em><br />
Our feet drag in the snow<br />
Her little hand held loosely in my own<br />
If I can not feel my own hand<br />
How am I supposed to keep track of hers<br />
I feel her hands slipping frequently<br />
From within my grasp<br />
To hang limp by her sides<br />
They drag her down<br />
She is so little<br />
So fragile I have to take care of her<br />
But even as I think this<br />
I feel my eyelids dragging too<br />
We are dying<br />
And I know this<br />
I wonder if she knows too</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">We keep moving<br />
One foot in front of the other<br />
Trudging through this desolations<br />
To a destination unknown<br />
I have no answers for her<br />
Just empty reassurance<br />
That soon the answer will come<br />
Who knows maybe a flaming chariot<br />
Will come from the sky<br />
In a flourish of warmth<br />
That will thaw our tired bones<br />
Or not.<br />
Nevertheless we keep moving</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">She falls to her knees beside me<br />
I barely notice in my own fogginess<br />
<em> I am going to take a nap<br />
</em> She says in a voice now more than a whisper<br />
That echoes in my ears like a scream<br />
<em> No</em>.<br />
I say forcing my way through the snow<br />
To reach down and rouse her<br />
She has curled up in the snow<br />
Like a kitten next to a warm fire<br />
There seems no difference<br />
She looks so peaceful as she closes her eyes<br />
I shake her, yell at her<br />
Tell her she can’t die<br />
I have to protect her<br />
Keep her safe and alive<br />
But she is gone now<br />
Curl up in Winter’s embrace<br />
Leaving me in this winter wasteland<br />
Alone.<br />
So devastatingly alone</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">I kneel in the snow<br />
Unable to move<br />
Not willing to die<br />
But not strong enough to live<br />
Where does that leave me<br />
I pet her soft hair<br />
And say goodbye<br />
I have to continue on<br />
Alone if must be<br />
So I left her behind<br />
She belonged to the winter<br />
Not mine any more<br />
I screamed in silence<br />
Because there was no one left to hear<br />
This desolation this utter fear<br />
It was the first time I had felt anything<br />
Since this terrible winter of silence began<br />
And it was the last feeling I ever had<br />
As Winter pulled me in<br />
And left me hollow and cold inside<br />
I died with her<br />
Long ago in the snow<br />
Yet here I am still moving<br />
But who am I now?</p>
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		<item>
		<title>Perfection</title>
		<link>http://www.multer.com/people/monica/2009/perfection/</link>
		<comments>http://www.multer.com/people/monica/2009/perfection/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 22 Nov 2009 05:26:25 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>monica</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[perfection]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[wasted]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[youth]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.multer.com/people/monica/?p=1064</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Every second Youth wasted On planning Adulthood How your Life will End up And should Every second Of life Washed away Never to get back My house My career My husband And family Set in stone Finally I Reach my planned Life and happiness The perfect Husband Sits, reads the newspaper Drinks coffee He says [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="text-align: center;">Every second<br />
Youth wasted<br />
On planning<br />
Adulthood<br />
How your<br />
Life will<br />
End up<br />
And should<br />
Every second<br />
Of life<br />
Washed away<br />
Never to get back<br />
My house<br />
My career<br />
My husband<br />
And family<br />
Set in stone<br />
Finally I<br />
Reach my planned<br />
Life and happiness<br />
The perfect<br />
Husband<br />
Sits, reads the newspaper<br />
Drinks coffee<br />
He says<br />
He loves me<br />
The perfect<br />
Baby<br />
A little girl<br />
Sits in her high chair<br />
Angel with black hair<br />
Pale face<br />
Blue eyes<br />
The perfect<br />
Dog<br />
Never barks<br />
Nor bites<br />
The perfect<br />
House<br />
Just as I<br />
Had dreamed<br />
High ceilings<br />
In the rainy woods<br />
The perfect<br />
Job<br />
Writing and teaching<br />
Always published<br />
Students love me<br />
I am perfect<br />
My life complete<br />
Except I<br />
Had no childhood<br />
I wish I<br />
Had a perfect<br />
Childhood<br />
I am not<br />
Perfect<br />
My life is incomplete<br />
To live<br />
A perfect life<br />
I must<br />
Sacrifice<br />
Who I am<br />
I think to myself<br />
“This isn’t<br />
What I wanted”<br />
I don’t want<br />
To be<br />
Perfect<br />
“This isn’t<br />
What I wanted”<br />
I can’t<br />
Be perfect<br />
Because I am<br />
Unhappy<br />
I look<br />
At everything<br />
Just as I wanted<br />
Just as I planned<br />
Everything<br />
Planned out<br />
Perfect<br />
But now that<br />
I have it<br />
I don’t want it<br />
“This isn’t<br />
What I wanted”<br />
I planned<br />
So I could<br />
Be happy<br />
But now I have<br />
Lost everything<br />
That was really important<br />
Perfection<br />
Is a joke<br />
You can’t be<br />
Perfect<br />
Because to get<br />
Something<br />
You must give<br />
Something else up<br />
To be perfect<br />
Or happy<br />
You choose</p>
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