A cry like that final cry is music for everafters to dwell inside, but who hears? Above the commerce of killing in the name of ending death, only the closest to its edge. Those condemned to death see clearly, trust in water, for a body owning nothing can never be owned, and give it all away with an abundance that terrifies whomever thought themselves a step above now tawdry with pretense in a cardboard crown, another clowned owner of that endlessly elusive all.
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Inspired by Mahmoud Darwish’s I Have the Wisdom of One Condemned To Death
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