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Wounds

A vicious rehearsal 
has forked out. It is a flame that 
bothers but borders on the 
essence of life—the 
survival of a community 
searching for answers 
after the quake and 
the flood. I gather 
         these rhymes like 
firewood 
as I piece together the lines 
only legible to the living.
      These metaphors speak 
to me, dressing my wounds, 
unveiling my 
       valleys, as my rivers 
flow downstream, before 
emptying into the Atlantic. 

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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Date: 7/27/2025 6:07:00 AM
Poetry survives in the aftermath. Awesome write Cherbo
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Geeplay Avatar
Cherbo Geeplay
Date: 7/27/2025 6:28:00 AM
Thank you!

Book: Reflection on the Important Things