Asifa died in January
it was April when I learned
it is always already too late
We walk alone to the river
to the horse, to our homes
our thoughts catching
on branches of doubt
of light, rupture our
cruel, fool-ish world
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anticipatory story
my mother is old, my father older the hopes in my heart older too I will them to come back daily the way every day shows the way every day ...
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