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Under the Walnut Tree

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.

–– Lynn Martin

 
From Blue Bowl (Blue Begonia Press). Copyright © 2000 by Lynn Martin.
Reprinted here with the kind permission of Lynn Martin.
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