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A memorial begins to grow outside of the houses on Baycrest Avenue where Elijah Marsh was found after wandering from a nearby apartment complex.

Matthew Sherwood/The Globe and Mail

As a memorial grew on Baycrest Avenue in Toronto, where three-year-old Elijah Marsh was found lifeless in the snow on Thursday, the city came together in mourning. Below, a poem for Elijah by Lynn Crosbie.

Elijah

Snow moving in orbits, the wolf-call of the wind: time to
Put on my boots and head out,

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To make small, blunt tracks and little hand-angels,
Oh no, that feels like fire

The fire that begins above my feet and spreads and spreads,
It's hard to remember,

Yes, I want to go home, that's what I wanted to –

The air is a memory of being born, before I came to Neptune
Is she this way, or that way

Down this path and by the hole below the window where a gust of
Warm blows

I will lie down

This time I want to talk to someone, I don't feel shy

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I would say that what attacks you is invisible, and does not stop:

I would direct you to my mother who is more sad than mad as I lie
Down on a gush of her hot tears and exhale, at last, a sun-beam.

Lynn Crosbie is a Toronto writer. Her new book, Where Did You Sleep Last Night, comes out with Anansi this spring.

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