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March 18, 2008
By Erika Stiles, Clarkston, MI

Empty candleholder on unadorned wall,
my presence holds the words of now.
All day long I am filled with
the unadorned prayers of empty men.

Silent night,
the moon gutters through the stained windows.
Suspended in serenity,
I am allowed to bask in
all the silence of a sepulcher.

Forming prayer to hollow stones
lips that would kiss now bear witness,
their partner hands as sleeping clouds folded.


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