It’s a bush of memories.

Shadows of faces unable to speak.

Lost in a moment, like a mist

catching voices and thoughts

drifting in a direction of silence.


Angels gather.


We feel the pain gathered by images.

Others swell in tides of grief

we fail to completely understand.


We pray.


From our place looking out we wait

for answers.

Others wait for answers that will never



They weep as the seasons pass.

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