Something shifted.

An incident that shook her,
Carved in a new scar,
She changed the position,
Of her furniture.

A 56 degree rotation,
The slight tilt in focus,
Something altered from within,
Something shifted.

The myopia of the situation
Cleared away,
Like mist before rain,
Like dust after dawn.

Some years, they ask
The others, bear answers.
Like a reel within
A handheld camera,
From several births ago,
Found in the attic.

Once exposed to light,
The reel,
Rendered as helpless as
A fawn who couldn’t stand.

The truth shining through.
Piercing the lazy morning
Like a thread through an eye,
She winced.

The photographs now,
Bathed in sunlight,
Pale.. anaemic almost.
Fighting to keep the truth,
Alive and awake.

She stifles them with light.

Closer to the window
The sun,
Her liberation and
Their assassination.

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