A sparrow welcomes sunlight after a storm

with the innocence of a girl who lives

because she has to.

She murders winter, strangling it

inside her sweater,

scratches labels of grief

till the glue forgets its name.

She learns how to fold silence

into usable shapes,

keeps her breath economical,

like matches saved for power cuts.

The world offers omens,

she eats around them.

Rain dries itself on her shoulders.

Memory behaves.

Hunger becomes a habit.

She smiles at a dead crow,

not in cruelty,

but recognition.

Some things finish early

and still teach you

how to stand.

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