I am her, my movement in eyes. In the way,
I reach,
but cannot grasp the sky.

I am her: and how it hurts to know this.

I may stand, but how to stand together:
when they have taken home?

in this, even disappointment, dies.

---

A miracle.
A fondest love is born.

up from the smokin ashes, 
and blood, and trumpet sound, 
a black procession, unmourned. 
and shirts and dresses, torn. 

across a raging ocean: in me.



What could we say of love?
--- That even from the depths of sorrow.

A dove.






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