Doggerland
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#posts #poetryWarped by the pressure of so many centuries, barnacled statues crawl out of the surf to converge on me, alone on this winter shore. Surrounding me in marble, they demand a detailed account of their rich and varied history. What do I know of their deeds and exploits? I cough mumble about a few myths a story in a picture book I saw once maybe Is that all you know of us? they ask. We wrestled with the fear of a winter sun suddenly diminishing. We never once considered glaciers to be mutable, and we always thought our land was permanent. We created detailed plans for a future that would never arrive, inscribed in detail into our city walls. We loved each other with such intensity we thought we could mould the very oceans to do our bidding. Together we danced and laughed and wept and dreamed. It is your duty to be honest. Is that all that remains of us? I consider my shoelaces
Experimenting with the < pre > tag to format poetry with spaces on my site, apologies if it doesn't work.
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