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Poetry

Waters of Dust

  1. Hanging up on a cross;
  2. Dripping from toes, my dross.
  3. Buried in waters of dust,
  4. Chipping away at crust.
  5. Breathing on me, a dove
  6. Sent from the moon above.
  7. Tending fin, wing, and claw.
  8. Eating good fruit I saw;
  9. Nibbling on blood and brain.
  10. Riding on wheel of pain.
  11. Farming thorns from the brink,
  12. Wanting for crumb and drink.

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By Kim Siever

Kim Siever is an independent journalist based in Lethbridge, Alberta. He writes daily news stories, focusing on municipal, provincial, and federal politics, specializing in investigative journalism and critical analysis from a leftist political lens. He also writes regular editorials on general politics and social issues.

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