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Waging Peace

Sarah Zale: It is Time

A lotus flower floats on her lower lip.

The notes of her cello form sprigs

between my toes.  Holy, I say. Heilig,

she says and I fall. Pain has a life,

even in sound. The timbre of German

trumpets silenced truths. I remember

I am Nazi. I remember I am Jew.


I lie upon her bow

as it stretches across the strings.

Heilen, she says, it is time to heal.


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