When someone close to you
dies, you begin to walk among the dead. My essay at Open to Hope.
*
Desert
A
dry, desolate land of rocks and sand.
Beyond
the outskirts of civilization.
I
rise with the sun, even though I haven’t slept,
go
to bed when I can’t stay awake,
eat
when I have to.
* If you would like to read the rest of this post, let me know and I’ll send it to you. *
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