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funeral poem

she limps with halting painful pace
do not grieve that it is over
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
i am singing to you
some of the hurts you have cured
thoughts through my head
he came and took me by the hand
i saw god. do you doubt it?
are you awake?
there are three ways in which men take
simply speaking
by the rude bridge

 



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