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Ode to the Woman in a Sari Who Walked Around My School Every Morning
She wore clunky gray sneakers
and a sunrise on her chest
Stark white braid on brown skin,
stride matching the contrast
of a red teardrop gracing her brow
The light never grew bright enough
to see her eyes.
Maybe I just stopped seeing her.
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I feel like everyone has a story worth telling, whether they're your closet family member or a stranger on the street.