A Pit In My Stomach

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By Carolyn Black

If today I die
A fig tree may grow
From a pit in my stomach
To mark my grave
In years to come
The compost of my body
Feed the seed
The warm sun tempt the sprout
To rise upwards
Roots securely wrapped
Around my ribs
Providing the seedling
With calcium
Making it grow tall and strong
The fruits from my body
Will live on
In perpetuity

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