Sunday, April 26, 2026

Samuel 11: In Writing

 "History rhymes"

my friend posts

it doesn't repeat

exactly

it does merge, mix, echo


Same lined walls,

same gym mattress in the corner

same wail. Same pile of shoes by the door. 


When it rained, the perichor

slippery stones

and lights blinking through the clouds

marked which year it was

which round


but now it is the same sullen heat

Fallen figs smashed into the floor.

Swim through the same menace,

watch the same dusty sky. 


But now my baby can run halfway

and my daughter can cross the street.

There are two new rabbits in the school petting corner

a new row of graves in the military cemetery

and I am more tired, and sad and heavy

body the clock tracking history


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