We Speak in Parables

Could be a lost child or the appearance of a tear in ordinary fabric. Could be the silence of the resurrected or the name of a wildflower on the back of a bus, here today and gone tomorrow no recorded words, no age, no cause of death, just a suddenly re-spooling life

As though you could call what we do here spooling,

as though any word at all could substitute for resurrection.

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