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Immured by grief,
Each sad new death,
The walls accrete
And kill the breath
Of everyone.
And each new blow
Deadens the drum
And weakens the ‘No!’

Such grief, not bid,
Thickened the wall
Until we did
Not feel at all.
We retreat from

Life and are prised

From old freedom.

© RM Meyer
Winswell Water, July 2020