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I Cried Myself an Ocean (Again)
I’m adrift at sea—an ocean
that came forth of my own eyes.
I bathed in my tears, washed my hair
in grief, but it didn’t make me
clean.
I planted the seed of the tree
I drew,
watched it grow into the shape
of you,
and then I watched it drown.
And when the storm had passed—
40 years and 40 more—
I saw it there still standing
tall
and the water rose once more.
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