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Poetry

What I have come to say is never quite
_____sufficient; what I have come to say falls
ever short, if reliably—my one,
_____my only certainty. This fact, for now,
can prove both deep discouragement and deep,
_____elusive hope. I’ve come to trust our words’
most modest crapshoot; I have come, as well,
_____to see their limit as my proof. If, one
fresh morning, I should come to apprehend
_____how ever full with presence every breath
now is—and even now—I have a sense
_____my words would grow so heavy as to still.
I suppose that morning then would open
_____to our eighth day, whose sunrise will not set.

 —for Warren Farha


The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

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