by Ethel Mortenson Davis
I am going deep within myself,
to where gates no longer open,
but instead
walls are crossed upon walls
between the four directions.
Here is where the wolf
cannot penetrate again,
and the lion cannot eat my flesh.
Like some wounded animal
that crawls back to his source,
I am going deep within myself
to find the cool stillness.
I will not come out again
until my skin has thickened.
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