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Deaths in a Decade
You were plucked away from us before we could see your faces, or hear you play the flute, before you could rub my toes, or rest your head in my lap and gently curl up in sleep.
That destruction, as it drew out your lives astride our first decade nearly wrenched us apart: yet we allowed that first martyrdom.
Will our tender blossoms see that the second crucifixion was for them; that they may add girth and grow great branches with the freshest greenest leaves, ever reaching out towards the sun and falling quietly to the earth, to nestle their softness again in our ancient arms?
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