Poison

Poison In the stagnant pond life-sucking insects breed. On the silent ocean the crew starves, the ship becalmed. Unswung, the child's swing is rusted past repair. Stillness is the realm of poison. It saturates the frozen mind: Seeps through the gaping wounds of anger Settles in to the spider-cracks of fear. The Not Not And

antidote is hard to look at packaged in a stoppered flask or vial labeled "Once with breakfast, once again with tea."

so: Take my hand Let us run To the hills and through the valleys, 'cross the sea-It's out there-In time we'll find it-And when we do, 'twill be the journey set us free.