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Poems

I WISH I WAS A LINGUIST



O to be fluent in the language of silence.
The still small voice in a raging storm,
A broken heart in a crowded room.
To search a haystack and find the needle,
Through the maze so others might follow.
Discovering provision, treasure map of life,
The gold that forms from the pain and strife.
Hearing your voice in the clamour and throng,
The language of silence is my song.

It’s time to live again

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