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ness than any…ind me. It is I who am petrified with grief. Grief for the girl I once was and will never be again. The only sounds, the susurrations of my constant serpentine companions, mingling with waves and seaborne winds. Even the gulls turn their eyes from my face — lessons learnt from the corpse-grey stones never to take flight again, scattered upon the shore. More loneliness than any mortal woman should bear.
Melissa Coffey
Jenine Bsharah Baines
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Awed and deeply moved, heartbroken...
J…Jen…Jeni…Jenine... Proper names are poetry in the raw. (W.H. Auden) Poet, singer, seeker, hippie grandmother gleefully revealing herself
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