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Cognizant of the ecology,

she always attempted

the smallest footprint,

one which allowed her to move

unseen, unheard,

rippling in and out

of other people's lives

leaving no tsunami or even wave

to disturb the stillness.

Below the surface,

tectonic plates shrugged wide shoulders,

flexed neglected muscle,

felt magma bubble up,

a burning in the belly.

The quake, when it came,

rearranged continents.

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All poems are about loss

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Listening to Yo Yo Ma