as though, on waking, you found this:
not the way back,
but the possibility of finding a way, any way,
back to the seed and root and branch;
when the chance had been lost before memory,
and before memory, only loss
as a child feels it, without understanding
where it pervades, and what the poison kills.
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Really beautiful imagery here especially in the last line “where it pervades, and what the poison kills.” Leaves you contemplating ~