January 11

Dew on the bricks. Or rain from the storm that strew
debris across the lawn. Strain born over seas
who sustained anger all night long. Let us review

wreckage, the pain of loss. Cross this bridge
over which we to gain respite, quarter,
clemency, grace, rest from blame, mercy.
Or feign to stay dry, indoors.

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Author:

A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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