open your arms,
and gently bend your knees,
now, let’s talk about fighting.
all the soft things you want to save.
this was going to be a love song
but the papers keep saying
it’s two minutes till midnight.
where does panic live in your body?
i mean: how much can you carry?
what if taking up arms
meant to raise them in welcome
and soldiering onward
meant we danced until dawn?


photo and poem by katherine ferrier ©2017


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