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Topic: End (02/13/06)
By Purity Snowe
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Hope is despoiled.
The pillowcase on my motherís bed is stained with countless tears. And blood. Her blood. Brown and unbending. Refusing comfort. It whispers a morbid testimony of clutching fingers, jagged breaths. She buries her sobs in threadbare fabric as the ravager does unspeakable things. I know. Thin walls keep no secrets.
Pain is everlasting.
Last night she locked her door. The ravager thundered. Demonic fury. I didnít think to. The bottles, empty now. A voice is heard in Ramah, mourning and great weeping, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because her children are no more. I swallow the powdered remnants.
Jeremiah 31:15 New International Version
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