Into Exile, Unto Home
A shiver in this tropic.
A splinter in this flesh.
If I could remain,
I’d heal, be free.
Not up to me.
The draft from wallet
chills and begs
(no beggar's ever free).
And so from faraway
I go
into exile
unto home
Pulling out the Splinter -- John Joseph Enneking
A shiver in this tropic.
A splinter in this flesh.
If I could remain,
I’d heal, be free.
Not up to me.
The draft from wallet
chills and begs
(no beggar's ever free).
And so from faraway
I go
into exile
unto home
Pulling out the Splinter -- John Joseph Enneking
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