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  Hollers and Hollow Bones

hope is a black-winged bird

Hope is a black-winged bird
And I 
Wrote the names of the ones who almost killed it 
In the black under my eyelids
So I don’t sleep, my eyes just flutter
Hope is each time I close them anyway. 
Hope is a black-winged bird,
And I
hear her sing as we cycle from shadow into light
During mourning
No, hope is not a shining star in the night sky
Hope, dear, is in the darkness
In the shadow of black wings that still fly



This poem was published in the summer 2020 edition of Goldenseal magazine.
​ 

Photo by Georg Auffarth 

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