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The Greatest of These

In Poetry by Sean Critchfield

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. Breathe. Settle yourself. Try to understand. We were meant to love. And if we can not love, then we were meant to try to …

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Hermitage

In 4LTR WORD: HOME by Sean Critchfield

Upon the roots of the Oak I sat. Joined by the works of Whitman and Kant. Where I ate of the wild until my heart grew fat. And whispered, “Yes … this is where I will hang my hat.” Photo (Flickr …

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Father’s Love

In Family by Sean Critchfield

My Father used to buy cars. A lot of cars. Broken down, busted up, P.O.S. cars. Usually VW’s. Always on the door of the great rusting field in the sky. He’d park them on the side of the house in …

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Love Song in Sepia

In Poetry by Sean Critchfield

I remember her hands turning the knitting needles like mercury. Beating yarn into fabric. And in her wisdom, she’d spin her words into gold. I studied each line on her brow for truth. Reading the creases like India ink. Dark. …

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Mosaic: Poem

In Poetry by Sean Critchfield

Mosaic Give them to me. All the pieces of your broken heart. Give them to me. I’ll take them. All the rough-hewn misshapen bits of your shattered dreams. Give them to me. I will take them. Give them to me. …