Tomorrow<\/b><\/p>\n
‘She turned to say it once again: Tomorrow’<\/em> The God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Tomorrow ‘She turned to say it once again: Tomorrow’ It was the only promise they had but let me be thorough: It was a promise in a world where tomorrow tomorrow was a lie For a love struggling to die In a world of crumpled…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":310,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-13086","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13086","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/310"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=13086"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13086\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13107,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13086\/revisions\/13107"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=13086"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=13086"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=13086"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nIt was the only promise they had but let me be thorough:
\nIt was a promise in a world where tomorrow tomorrow was a lie
\nFor a love struggling to die
\nIn a world of crumpled desires and stolen memories
\nWhere dust had gathered on ancients for centuries
\nAnd loved ones dragged along in deepest compassion
\nTied to chains, sinking in the dirt of devotion
\nThey made the mistake of wanting
\nThe desire horrifyingly daunting
\nAt dusk, each dusk, boundaries would slip away
\nAnd lovers would lay
\nOn the ground of dying beetles and fallen leaves
\nThe beetle, the leaves both outlived them; and witnessed the rivers grieve<\/p>\n