Tomb Sweeping
It is raining.
I don’t know where the bones lie, but
the salt water I swallow and
the bright of white blossoms
remind me that it’s time to sweep the ancestors’ tombs and
give my love
to the living.
It is raining.
I don’t know where the bones lie, but
the salt water I swallow and
the bright of white blossoms
remind me that it’s time to sweep the ancestors’ tombs and
give my love
to the living.
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