***
This little country, a disabled
child
God leads her by the hand on the
way
of the suffering, on the edge of
the abyss
but she walks with her legs wide
apart
nor does she care, she walks on
across
the remote gardens in the height
of the escarpments there she
shakes
in raptures over her
self-sufficiency
counting the gentle days passing,
gathering together like the
leaves –
how far the past is – there the
water
and the sky are dark and one glimpses
a frog.
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