Two years with no word.
The stick you planted
sprouted leaves last spring,
restoring hope. We had long
thought it dead. Two leaves
and a bud. A note
scrawled on a dollar bill,
unsigned and smuggled out
by some kindly stranger.
This is not much.
We can do little
but watch the tree grow
while you count steps
and deny the walls of a room
that light never touches.
“Return (El Salvador, 1983)” first appeared here in June 2015.
beautiful, robert.
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Thank you, Beth!
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One of your best, Bob! Love its leanness. It’s perfect!
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Thanks, Lynne. I wrote this a long time ago, when I, too, was lean. Ha!
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Wow–so much said and unsaid here. Too many people in rooms “that light never touches.”
Beautiful and powerful.
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Thank you, Merril. Entirely too many people in too many rooms like that.
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Hauntingly poignant. Thank you for reposting
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So pleased you think so. Thank you.
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I’m pleased you reposted this, I’ve not long been a blog participant , your writings are a mind expanding revelation for me. Thankyou.
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You are very generous, Ivor. Thank you.
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love this
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Thank you, Maureen.
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Lovely. ❤would you mind visiting my site and give feedback on how i can improve it? Thanks.
https://aspirantgoth.wordpress.co
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I’ll certainly visit your blog.
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Great work here. This poem was wonderful.
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Thanks very much!
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Simply beautiful.
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Thank you, Andreea!
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This is really powerful.
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Thank you, Thomas.
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