this ceiling
made up of prayers and light
looks like
that blanket i had
back when i was six
and back then
you couldn't have told me
flight was beyond my reach
even though mom wouldn't let me cross the street
my blanket and i
would cut a rug across the stars
it kept me invisible
during those moments of yelling
and hurt that stung as it crested my chin
this evening sky
reminds me of a childhood security
only the memories live
past tattered fabric
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