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when war is come
and I have prayed
the fathers intervene
to carve a crystal fountain
from the seas
healing hearts
and easing every memory
of loss –
taking back of hurts
we fell between

as tears aligned
with rumor –
sons by sons are grieved
a disillusioned truth
returned as stone
I will sit the night
every night
until the end becomes
a place to start
with pieces left
of home

. . .