The Next

By Leena Norms

I can still smell smoking wood
On Easter mornings
Embers from bonfires we used to burn
Staying up till sunrise
To watch hope return
Now, older, done waiting
For a man in the sky who
Won’t return my texts,
I can still smell on Easter Day
The next, the next, the next.

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Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad

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Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad
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