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Old Dogs Know

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Head in my hands, I ask
“Do you know weary?”

The kind deeper than muscle, deeper than bone
A weight upon the invisible unfathomable inside
What exists before and after and outside
The bounds of flesh and time

I confess with certainty
“I’m so worn.”

Like a travel-torn salmon
His will spilt to the last drop
Fighting water’s flow and stone’s maw
Scale and fin sacrificed
To instinct’s tortuous flaw

I howl in grief
“My heart is dry.”

My hand reaching for yours, grasping
The retreating blade of love’s sword
Blood running, dripping from my fingertips

These words ache to say
These words cry in pain
My bones begging to lie down again

I’m so weary
A tired only old dogs know
Loyal and true until their days are through
Whether or not it mattered to you

Photo credit: Mr. Riviere [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
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