Poetry of Love, Resistance, & Solidarity

The deer know.
Guns have silenced themselves, left
for another season, waiting for duck
and geese to follow
the North star home
again, crossing dry grasses
beneath the clouds. We
listen for rain, for ice, for wind
to bring tell of tomorrow. We ask:
what can they know when they don’t look up?

            — Daniele Cunningham

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