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The green spear of a palm leaf
rising into the grey morning,
grey cloud, grey hand reaching
out of a grave, a mind thinking
out of its confusion,
spirit sliding out of its skin—
we are in these snapshot moments;
you want to turn around and say,
did you see that? to anyone who’ll listen,
not just the wind you didn't think of
when it filled your lungs,
or made your voice, or moved on
when there was nothing left to say.
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