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Cherubim

Posted Sep 7 2016 by W.S. Dante in  with 0 Comments

This child
Whose creaseless, spotless forehead
You tenderly kiss goodnight
Whose tiny fingers you stroke
Is loved as naturally
As deeply
As powerfully
As many millions across our world.

This shape
Whose torn, dishevelled clothing
We see blood-dirt encrusted
Whose thin, contorted limbs
Splay in prideless rest
Was loved
As deeply
Yesterday
Too

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