I want to know your name
to hear the sound that drew you
from your mother's womb
as I carry you back to the forest
because I've heard your voice in stride.
But the days of knowing the slain
have long passed, so I count you
next to the rest. Each number
spelled out in a whisper
so soft as your sleeping breath
desired no less the first than the last.
fifty is the shamed child who killed each one before.
fifty one is the child who sang love songs.
fifty two is the child who forgot love songs.
fifty three is the child too young to read signs.
fifty four is the alligator failed by signs that did not say
And in sum, I call you
the one I love most
49 life stories at ABC News
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