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Shiva
by Donald Lev
They have rent all my garments.
They make me sit upon the hard wet ground.
They have sent their children away from me.
They have crushed my mirrors.
And they command me to mourn.
I ought to rejoice in the commandment.
And I do. I do.
I have always loved you, my buried bride.
As now I am commanded to do.
I will always love you my beautiful one.
As I am and am not commanded to do.
12/03
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