Poetry: Sole Survivor

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For my own poor health
the truth must be told –
my mother, I remember,
was heaviest, the faintest –
sinking the small pulse
of life within me.

I later roused myself –
dreaming over the cool
night air in the suburbs.

I turned again to
my mother, my sister –
but I was the sole
survivor
of the family.

(Poetry by Maranda Russell)

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