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Elizabeth Sheehan
POETRY
I Build This House, This River Alone
I
Blossom me out, calling me
From the silence of the unreachable regions,
And of my territorial heart.
II
It is a terrible beauty, a stone tossed
In a rippling circle, then a beat, one
Then another, until my breathing
Is no longer razored, jagged,
But like a courageous strong wind
Able to move and be moved.
III
Silence! Listen! Beat and breathe and breathe again.
Piece by piece and stone to stone, I build this river, this heart,
This house alone.
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