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We Had Such Promise. . . severed still. . . .
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The Gate Opens
I wrote ( journal 1985) that what is visible is visible and also what is visible can be chosen not to be seen. The depth of perception depends on our courage and capacity to deal with impending events. But only as we observe and have knowledge that life is never ending, is everlasting and…
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The Wait Is Too Long. . .
From my eyes. . . . Father, I said, go greet your son. And the father did and their arms wrapped themselves about each other. And the world was then all right. From my eyes, from my eyes. . . And from my heart, I hear . . . Why did they wait so long?…
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One World At A Time . . .is enough?
Our focus is a small world. . . When I read this poem I take on another perspective. It is a small world that we focus on here. Never aware that there is another world to the left and one to the right and beneath . Vast. . . I see me holding tight to…
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Conduit For Good. . . .
Conduit For Good. . . . We have all heard go back to where you came from in the past weeks and have been hurt and scarred and taken umbrage with the phrase. For me, being where I am in life, I say, Sir, we all go back to where we came from eventually. Today…
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In The Quiet Of This Night. . . . . .
In The Quiet Of This Night. . . In the quiet of this night, come to me and we will hold hands and talk, and I will show you from how high up you jumped. The night will love you and envelop you and you will find that in the cold moon there is a…
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Worn Like A Second Skin. . . . .
The Teacher says do not worry about what others think. They just think differently. And this difference lends a diversity to life that will peal our heart and make us wish to be among humans living time and again. We will wish to work within the limitations, knowing that the things we have learned are…
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Across The Mind’s Eye. . . .
Across The Mind’s Eye. . . . Laying like whipped icing on the wedding cake, the drifts of snow across the mind’s eye left a clear path to the heart’s memory of the other winters when love closed the doors of the world and cherished me. What were the winters like when the snow stood…
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Emmanuel, Emmanuel. . . God Within. . . . Us. . .
It was 1941 and I was ten and warned every time I went out that God was watching me. And seeing me pick up a nickel from the wooden church floor and go across the street to buy a coveted pack of Walnettos. Word followed me home of course and I was punished. Why…
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When We Trash Our Souls. . . .
Our Connectedness. . . . There is a connectedness I see and it weaves through everything. I am not certain where it leads nor if it ever had a beginning. But this I know. It is real and it is firm and it is gutsy. Not a word that is elegant, but true to…