I don’t remember.
I don’t remember her name, it just isn’t there.
I don’t remember her name.
My mind shapes
around her frail form
traces her as she lies
in the unforgiving sand.
I cannot myself, understand.
Understand.
I don’t remember.
My eyes, they see The tradition, the veil
of her scarf.
No protection. She is dead.
She is dead and all that remains in our eyes is her
scarf.
I don’t remember.
Are we connected?
but I won’t share these.
The eyes, the quiet strain
of a scarf.
Am I understanding?
Am I understanding?
What is her name?
She is dead.
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