today, rebirth
in a playground of these wooly 
angels of death.
so quiet, they
hover in the void -
a palpable absence
whose nameless vacuum 
touches me,
my own little corners of death
released
pulled from the sadness
that winters in my bones,
and making room 
for the the little corners of life
that seek to be born. 

photos and poem by Kimberly Warner

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