Poetry from the Writer of Light for Tuesday, September 19, 2006

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Tuesday, September 19, 2006

WHISPERS

Your door opens. Samoht walks in and bows reverently. You get no reply when you ask his business in your house. Instead of words directed at you, he offers prayers, whispered behind an upraised hand or piece of paper - as if the hand or paper rendered the world deaf. He whispers these prayers... Sign in to see full entry.

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