Cascading fabric a lifeline coiled floating from a cloud, knotted to the rope of Allah. A barrier- strange refuge, a hushed memory of who I was, before sudden birth. Ethereal recognition was the day I looked in the mirror draped in a starless sky. Foreign yet familiar, something shifting , stopping my heart and so startling my breath from a dimension I couldn’t perceive. Maybe, one day I’ll articulate it?

Fibres of the deceased, sewn into sacred cloth, I remember them as I walk, the swish- their tired hymn. Step on you, tug at you, intertwined with you, white knuckled grip, because you are life. In a dream state I walk through Tottenham Court Road. Home at last, return

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