poetry

Dear Stranger

Dear stranger
extant in the memory by the blue Juniata,
these letters
across space I guess
will be all we will know of one another.

So little of what one is threads itself through the eye
of empty space.

Never mind.
The self is the least of it.
Let our scars fall in love.

(Galway Kinnell, from “Dear Stranger Extant in Memory by the Blue Juniata”)

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