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Text version below
Brocaded Life (For Eden)
My mother's hands are silken gloves
Woven of the warmest thread,
Embroidered by the day, year, life.
Each caress a flower,
A vine of smiles, tears, hugs-
Strength etched in lines.
For this I strive,
This tapestry of life accomplished:
Instead of gold, a softly callused cloth.
Hagar Shirman
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