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The Literary Groong - 11/12/2005

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	By Talynn Hanissian

	The child relaxes
	As the home fires are lit
	And all the night lies outside.
	Fades the fields, the grain,
	But dares not reach its bony fingers out,
	To touch the fire.
	Sit down my young friend.
	Winds are chill and chafe around you,
	Howl as if their hungry questions,
	Will not cease upon the shutters of the windows,
	Windows that close out the night.
	But I -----
	Can not see the lights that call you.
	Call you from the darkness in,
	They evade my desperation.
	And all are home,
	Aware that the darkness closes upon me.
	But will not come out for fear,
	For fear that I am too corrupted,
	By the night, and can not see them.
	But morning does come to the outer world,
	And as I spend my nights upon the fields,
	Their fears would be confirmed,
	For never will I near their houses or call their names,
	I am dead to their intentions.
	I am homeless.

	March 10, 1978


Talynn Hanissian was born in Beirut, Lebanon. She came to the US when
she was three and writes only in English. Her father is from Musa
Dagh and her mother was born in Beirut from two survivors of the
Massacres. Talynn is a pediatrician and mother and has written poetry
since she was 8 years old. She now has nearly 500 poems from all
phases of her life, yet this is her first submission for publication.

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