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The ledge I mount as the crowd roars loud
From underneath me, my stand kicked swiftly
My world should have gone blank before me
As I waited for peace to fall on me
Rope came undone and I fell to the ground
Bewildered I wait, they will surely pounce
Shocked I lift my eyes and they fall in line with a rake’s tine
I should have died…

“Stand up!”
The voice that commanded was smooth as clay
Sharp like cinnamon laced with the comfort of sage
Prodding me along blade now pointing at my nape
Back up the street where my escape failed
I hesitate…

“Move!”
More cinnamon, less sage
A command it was, no time to spare
I wish I could ask “To where?”
I wish I knew where this road would lead
Let me stop here I almost plead
This time, the baker will be nice

“Keep walking…”
Less cinnamon, more sage
I keep walking, building calluses on my feet
So hard they break off against the cobblestone street
Baby fresh skin revealed with each crack and fall
A thunderstorm…

The clouds burst and release their secret store
Like bullets, the pellets hit my open sores
Raising layers of dirt pressed in cotton and skin’s pores
I could have screamed from the pain
I could have run to the baker and kneaded the same
I stayed…
Till the sun sent a ray to light my way
Driving away every drop on my brown nosed face

“This way…”
No cinnamon, all sage.
I smile…
A touch like velvet rests on my bare arm
Friend turned Angel by the will of God
Brought me to a place made with birch and stone
Set with a fire low
And put in place all the things that I had once known
I’m home.