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Rooftops

If I stand on the rooftop

Megaphone in hand;

shout clearly in single syllable words
 who I am,

what matters to me, my hopes, my fears;

would you know me better?

Would you understand?

If I pour out my heart like a libation

on paper in black and white

for you to read at leisure,

state precisely the meanings my tongue

cannot utter.

Would you drink more deeply

from the well of comprehension?

In my dreams I stand on an empty stage

With only you as audience.

I cannot see you sitting there

in the darkness

but I can hear your surprise

when I stumble and fall.

Brigit, 2009

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