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Rachel
by Ruth Sabath Rosenthal
dare i say
i'm mad so mad
with grief i
can barely speak
much less write the kind
of words meant
to voice what we've lost–
what you've done
the impossible
incomprehensible
the terrible hell thinking
how you must've felt
sinking so low you
saw no where left to go
no poem left
to lift you back
the poems you'll never write
more clouds
to scrawl across
slate-black sky
overhead a constant class
you the consummate teacher
now teaching no lesson
we care to learn
life much much less dear than
before you wrote
your very last
word
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