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The fear of voids and empty spaces

Kenophobia is a nasty thing but there is plenty that makes it worse.

Blaring horns will shatter me while rushing vehicles scatter the pieces.

An empty abyss hangs over my head,

A constant threat, a constant reminder to know my place beneath it.

I try to cling to anything to ground myself and remember my worth.

Although it is hard to feel appreciated when all I was gifted by the new world

Was cold cement held together by the powdered bones of my ancestors

As a means to keep me separated from our mother.

The only guarantee is reuniting with her in passing... but that's caving.

I possess a warrior spirit with a shield of compassion that refuses to yield.

I do not wish to see the last of life as a battlefield

But as a comfortable, loving home that I entrust and gift to my children generations.

Let's fill the empty spaces.


Kenophobia

Jorj Faust

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