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intothenothing

the wind
yet remembers
the weight of my willing
another I was
but a girl – only ten
crickets and
tadpoles
blackberry winters
barefoot as
lifetimes
recalled to me then

spirits
carry me
home by the river
out past the waiting
once promised
for us
a truth
undecided
as roads without name
an echo of someone
I used to be –
loved

. . .