We are all orphans our own
brothers and sisters children
On nights sacred
On nights profane
We press together
desperately
between I love yous
we take the time to write
love letters to our father
absentee
on certain days we read aloud his
"check is in the mail" note
on the fridge
set it to music
sing it beautifully
In winter we remember
he'll be back soon
from the store
We celebrate
As long as we have been ourselves
we have been
alone
together to gather
looking up
at the dark
with light in our eyes complete
our warm hands
tightly
ready already
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