gate keeper
memory seeker
chasing solace through barren lands
they've already come through here with their flame throwers.
there are no wombs left to bear anyone any hope.
my opus may not be drawn
on the blank canvas you've left
stretched over that gaping hole in chest
but it will come.
I will write those wombs
I will speak that hope.
I will plant stories in the land where my father died.
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