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My Son, My Son

by Joyce Kohl

“I don’t know any of you people. . . ” was the heart-wrenching start of a speech from my son to his immediate family near the end of an old-fashioned Christmas party in 1997. We had all gathered at my son’s request. He wanted all of us to give him some memories. He needed authentic memories, not related stories, to share with siblings and his parents.

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Mark

by Alma Johnson

Mark –
I see the sunrise through
your eyes –
the birds singing your song.
The trees whispering –
your name – in my heart.
The wind howling your pain,
and now mine.
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