image descriptions for typography

after you read the poem “the woman dies” a lot of media makes you mad

[text: When I think of everything I've wanted I feel sick.]

[text: storm-dark eyes]

[text: Years will pass, and you will have visitings of despair and yet be tortured by hope—]

[image: a plaque that reads: "some days you wake up and immediately start to worry. nothing in particular is wrong it's just the suspicion that forces are aligning quietly and there will be trouble."]

[text: Somewhere between wonder. And shame. I live in a great mosque. Built on top of a flagpole. Whatever happens happens. Loudly. All day I hammer the distance. Between earth and me. Into faith. Blue light pulls in through.'

[ID: I used to think that a dead person's words die with them. Now I know that they scatter, looking for meaning to attach to like a scent. My mother used to collect orange blossoms in a small shallow bowl. I pass the tree each spring. I always knew that grief was something I could smell. But I didn't know that it's not actually a noun but a verb. That it moves. /end ID.]

[text: no one is just one person, you, for example, are both cain and abel]

[text: September came in with golden days and silver nights,]

[text: my fingers in these wounds / from the past.]

[text: All morning it has been raining. In the language of the garden, this is happiness.]

[text: "I want to love more than death can harm. And I want to tell you this often: That despite being so human and so terrified, here, standing on this unfinished staircase to nowhere and everywhere, surrounded by the cold and starless night - we can live. And we will."]