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pomegranate tree
grew up by itself
and broke into fiery blossom.
Shining with radiant light before me,
as though smiling
like Marita's face, was a newly
opened pomegranate flower.
I was looking at that scarlet flower
and could not believe that Marita
was no longer adorning our earth.
It was hard to believe
that this gorgeous tree
could grow up in that dust and debris.
Where does beauty come to the world
from? Where does it go?
Or maybe it's just hiding its face
from us for a while?
Scarlet tree, little tree,
a flaming token,
miracle-working.
O God, help me to find,
help me to find.
THE END

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