For When We Remember the Dead | By Farida Adamu

For When We Remember the Dead | By Farida Adamu | Poetry

my father’s cows used to be there, and here, in this ranch now cold and desolate. its walls mourn in silence, missing the buzzing bodies that kept it warm. my father’s cows used to be here, splattered in white, eyes staring deeply into the void within souls; sometimes, you wonder why they stare ignoring the […]

from Brittle Paper http://ift.tt/2plyvlp

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