Yet and Still

A draft of a new poem I’ve written.

This year,

as many people died

as always do, give

or take a soul per thousand

souls; yet

some of those

souls gave and

took our breath

away, our will to gasp

and sigh, our memory

of light; yet,

but not yet, still sooner

than we’re ready and later

than we’d hope, because hope

is last, but truly still, these bits drift home

and describe the shape of loss

in peace.

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