Sunday, January 6, 2019

Boutheina Boughnim writes

My sun will rise

My sun will rise:
Glazing, scorching, blinding…
Craned necks
Will soon be tilted,
Not standing the glowing…  

My sun will rise,
Shall melt the tar,
Pulverize the tear
Set the pen ablaze.
High Noon -- Edward Hopper

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