The night at my back
draws in, draws in,
closes near my shoulder
makes me curl my back in
defiance and defence.

Not a crack will I open it
for you, for you,
I shut you out from view and
keep reading the words on the
page before my face.

Not mine, not mine,
but learning: a harrassing
grace infilling and wide.
I look for a sign of sanity,
ability, I look for the right

place to be before you come
and take me away.  I wait
for the day's light and wait
for a word that defines my
plight, my goal that seeds me whole.

And growing in the dawn 
the golden crown won
the dark withdrawn -
my own interdict collapsing
and trodden down.
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