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Joy

Scorched earth splits to let

one fragile stem breathe.

It pushes frail into the sun, yet

stands against the teeth

of heat and wind as if

it has lived a thousand years. 

Such an unexpected gift

could hardly flourish here – 

but it sustains,

and bit by bit it lifts

a leaf into the mourning rain. 

Patient, careful as it sifts

the tired earth for more, 

another blooms beside. 

For joy, the slow and silent war

is won, though it had died. 

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