

To the City on the HillPeaking from behind the curtain at Cliffton High reminds me of the day I gazed into the pensive eyes of my father's corpse, the day I saw for the last time my sister's back as she raced out the single door of our home, fleeing our burning village. Watching our principal introduce me at the podium from backstage resurfaces the memories of peering through the crack of the closet door as a government soldier yanked my sister's skirt off, my mother just out of my line of sight, trying to recover as our family's first rape victim. I was caught trying to watch, trying to telekinetically save my sister, as if my eyes could lifTo the City on the Hill


givingthankscircle)d around the stained platform barrel of the gin of the many breads of the previous days when sister complained for a remake and reremake of sandwich without gluten to eat among perhaps a clan of ones younger passing a candle dripping left to the right opposite of pork roast (until all of everyone is fullgivingthanks


future iowaiowa mothers clothed in the death of husbands potato one, two, planting potato three my country tis of liberty of trees desolate of branches of saints sinking in shallow waters whether daughters crave desire for their fathersfuture iowa
minnesota lakes filled with protestants scripture abiding vagabonds, nomadic once with homes going there is nothing more than leaving
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-I need Your [grace]
To remind me
To ~find . my . own.
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Here am I.
Please send me.
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Tonight the stars speak of Your Infinite Love. & It serves to remind me that what I have means nothing at all, compared to Your Glory, O Lord.
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thanks again,
/nadia
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We'll have to amputate.
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