• anguisette 140w

    Under the banyan,
    a woman sits,
    cross-legged, eyes closed.
    What to her
    is lost, is held
    by the aged fingers
    of the tree.

    The leaf, withered,
    and yet a child,
    surrenders to the wind.
    He masters something,
    his mother, with her
    outstretched fingers
    never will; to let go.

    The woman
    brushes off a dead leaf
    that falls into her lap.
    She will not allow it
    to become a grave twice.

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