Quarry
Memory quarries light
Out of Carraras of years.
Big misshapen blocks
The poem chisels and sands
So that something may stand
Where nothing did before.
What had no hope of surviving
Our death survives
As the light we've
Heaved into language.
It is language that shines.
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This is something else. It feels very much like you have crafted a statue out of the rubble left in a quarry when all the valuable resources are shipped off. Like you created value out of what is considered valueless. Impressive work.