This one must against all hope be saved.

Strong and anxious,
bundling at night,
fleeing to another place.

Herod is always there:  beware.

Death by design;
and powerless mothers weep
when little ones are not.

Scraps, ideas, bits of goodness,
tiny flickers dancing in dreams at dawn–

But remember–
the one removed
a desert landscape away–
worth all the rest.

Do your weeping,
and let the others go.


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