The Weight of What Is Precious
There is not an ounce of hate
inside of her
between a breath and silence
her voice is a shade at noon
offered to the thirsty
strong to those
who heed not wise words
an angelic face, as if from the stars
rooted in an ancient place
her heart a deep seed
that today has bloomed
in a far away land
a long time ago, a man
riding a donkey
smiled
infinite wisdom
he knew
always and forever
there would be more than twelve
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