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Silence


by Jill Chan


I let go

of my properties,

my work.


I let go

of this room,

its dimensions.


I let go

of the dreams

of sleep.


I let go

of the door,

its entering.


I let go

of objects,

their uses.


I let go

of the night,

its beauty light.


I let go

of the missing,

of the way they go.


I let go

of wars,

the death and scars.


I let go

of the pain,

how it has remained.


I let go

of certainty,

of how I leave.

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