There's a place in the hands
And that's where we'll meet:
Overcast and shadowed
It's strange, confused, and new
I carried a casket down the beach
From Maine
The homeland
Unto myself
In a sacred image
Of saint mary
Blistering and glowing
In all her holy honor
Yet fire
Makes her
So cold to
The eye
Like a faint
Memory
On the beach
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