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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?