Elisha Wall Biography

Do not give me
The knowing
That makes peace,
Often breached
...

The accolade reassures
I grapple on, steadfast,
Draining, the heat in my temple
Burns a thousand strokes of fire.
...

Do not weep for the gone child.
Save the tears of sorrow
Lest in vain we strain our eyes,
We ought to know the fate of the child
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