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I am beyond tears,

numb, sad, in grief.

 

Somehow the world limps on

sputtering bile, hate.

Maybe I should pray to a god?

Maybe I should pray

that the meek will inherit…

but inherit what?

Not this damaged earth.

 

Maybe they will play

amongst the stars,

looking down,

willing us,

to reach out

and reach up.

 

We can be so much more.

 

Out of reach 2016

by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm

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