Whether the weather withers Withers of all might, in the darkest of nights, Upon no night, shall my cling give way. O way, way, damn that word way! Way, you will not weigh me away! Way, away with you way! I, hath borne what must be bore before, Thus, I can carry through the blood, the thirst, the war, And, thisContinue reading “Grit- Greet thee”
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Poetic Pause with Amanda from Uganda 