The Beckoning

What happens when
hope goes, what
happens when destitution

of heart grows
like a canker in the
night and

swallows all the known
light, where
do you go when

the road stops dead
and silence grows
to swallow all

voice

and there is no
mistletoe under which
to stand, holly and ivy

unwind, and the hard
land beckons with
a hard hand.

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