Zoë Blaylock

The child who calls home strife begs tender clement
days   Dreams first of peaceful pastures then furtive
getaways   Roots become impediments in daring the
escape   Despair gnaws through the bone to slip the
trap of fate

Numbers one and eight augur rosy buoyant things
License in the hand shoulders boldly beating wings  
The child compelled to flee flutters long and far and
wide   Befriending the whole world but only from

Center morphs to hole   Roof to heavy weight  
Permanence a fence   Trust a padlocked gate  
Tumbleweed a portent thirsting as it blows   Falling
leaves parched freedoms whose whirl the severed

The child in flight toward safety yields the fare in
tears   Goads the will with anger   Knots to conquer
fear   Good riddance was necessity   Goodbye the
prudent choice   Still hope encumbers liberty and
yearnings implore voice

Rhyme veils a grief worn silent   Behold the stray
child old   Shivering in heat   Blistering with cold

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