oh sapling child
see the mighty oak
weep in winter storms
its taken limbs
a shrapnelled sward
of absence underfoot
but see again
that sapping trunk
to know that
even in its starkness
there remains
a life sustained
and shaped forever
not by what was stolen
but by what survives -
a fierce unyielding
testament to the
cruelty of loss
A child asks (when will my arm grow back?)
A message to a child gives hope that, despite a tragedy, there is a future
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