betwixt this and the nextA Poem by jinjahmanSeamus Heaney RIPGone is the rub of the green the lustre of spring the duty of winter and the sunset of autumn's deep, sad sky. Forever golden, ink-ripe and ready, the silence a well incarnate and blessed in stone. The buried body and risen soul braced betwixt this and the next home.
© 2013 jinjahman |
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