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Poetry

Then the river
I hadn’t found

held the rivers I had
ransom. I knew

I wouldn’t find it.
I would leave

where I wanted
to stay. I was

convinced we pay
no other price.

Then the river
I hadn’t found

held everything I had.
The way belief

holds proof
so we forget.

I could hear
the sound of water.

I thought
it didn’t matter

if I never found
what made it

until I left.


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