Everyone who was there is gone. This rain is their conversation — a gust of night air through the open front door, the bark of the dog, the winter crunch of a shoe in the yard. And far off — can you hear it? — a child is being born.
All the World’s Children
On the most painful of days,
all the world’s children come forth bearing flowers:
red for blood, the rest for those blind
to the depth of their powers.
Recently Banned Literature, January 20, 2017
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