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In the end she appoints

a wall of silence

behind which congeals a

heart.

For a long time before that,

perhaps she had wept tears, salt and

copious – for deep within her had lain

unopened dreams …

dreams richly bright – fruitlessly perhaps, she had pleaded

with the sages in the

sky – perhaps, till the end, she had held

captive one

ray of gold and fearlessly

believed prayer could sometimes

be dressed up

up to look like

fulfilled hope – perhaps her leaden eyelids

held a kohl-streaked dusk – perhaps the day

just gave up and died –

In the end she appointed that wall –

of silent pride.

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