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mother poem

and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
there is no escape by the river
sweet and strong
lady, your heart has turned to dust
often is it not so?
beneath my window in a city street
musing, between the sunset and the dark
out of the deep and the dark
the earth keeps some vibration going
beside a stricken field
in their ragged regimentals
all down the years
i saw god. do you doubt it?

 



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