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Gratefulness
When I face what has left my life, I bow. I walk outside into the cold, rain nesting in my hair. All the houses near me have their lights on. Somewhere, there is a deep listening. I stand in the dark for a long time under the walnut tree, unable to tell anyone, not even the night, what I know. I feel the darkness rush towards me, and I open my arms.
From Blue Bowl (Blue Begonia Press). Copyright © 2000 by Lynn Martin. Posted by kind permission of the poet.
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