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At the Edge of the World

         I have nothing in common with those
         Who are afraid of burns


This is the last barricade, firebreak, red line.
Across it,
We will no longer shake hands
As friends, politicians, or drinking buddies.

The final day, the last sentence, the last chance.
At the border the word we will go up in flames.
The word you won't make it through the fire.
Only they will remain.

Tonight let's sit awhile on our suitcases filled with reason,
Our backpacks bulging with feelings of honor,
And count a lifetime's worth of pocket change
For the road ahead, or back.

Let us sit until the morning.

Knuts Skujenieks

Seed in Snow
BOA Editions

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