Tag: compassion

When the War Ended

It’s a sad story, the drowning man in a cloud of fists the first thing in morning woken thinking of yesterday and swinging wide like a boxer finds the finish when he splays on the mat, hair absurd and wet for just a fight in his memories of fire and rush of the way the sun shocked when he woke…

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i.

Become a mouth-breaking exclamation, a sigh sorting memories into the box of photographs the turn of a projector or maybe a suspicion of beauty in others, like a freckle tucked away beneath makeup: how suffering so often is a lone subject/ a whale song caught in caves of ice or upon the lips of sleepy bears filling with weary resolve…

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