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Nativity of Loss

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Summary:
© 2025 I will always love you, my heart.

I read a poem that evoked a tear
a single, trembling drop
that spun me backward,
into shadows of what was
and the ever-present numbness
of could-have-beens.

 

25 days to go…
The air tastes different now,
heavier with memory,
as the earth tilts toward the same cold light
year after year.

 

a hardened, stone womb
cold and silent
yet not strong enough
to cradle your life.

 

the eve of the birth
of our Savior
will forever burn
as the night I birthed death,
and carried its quiet weight
through the orbit of our sun.

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