Inspite Of
Bloody men line the streets.
Their hands filled with stones.
A song fills my heart.
The place your finger touched.
When a Poet Dies
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What do you do when a poet dies?
When Maya died Oh how I cried.
Who will give us the words from the other side.
A poet, a scribe, a teacher, a preacher, a...
11 years ago
2 comments:
Deeply rendered, Pam. There is an undying undeniable love here. Thank you.
Thanks Jude
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