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No Place To Go . . . .
There are others who have experience in matters not common. I have kept notes on dreams and researched my experiences. I could not speak openly and was cautioned much because of public circumstances. Times are different and I speak for the children who are different. There are babies now being born who have been mentored and…
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If We Sing To The Children. . but you know. . . .
There comes to mind that time warp where events leave their linear places and congregate in the place where we know that thunderous motions occur with the simplest actions. Or even with no action. Like the times my brother Stanley and I discussed what he saw along the road but knew immediately I knew…
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Pray the garden into a sanctuary. . . . . .
On May 14, 2021, I posted Time’s Gleanings. It is a collection of paradigms as a brief respite in diets of heavy lessons. My last maxim of that post reads like this. . . ‘Like a dancer learning the discipline of a new score, we have rehearsed minute by minute to come to this place, …
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My reason. . . Because Of Love. . . . .
Explanation Caught in Part. . . In the beginning, in the place where I came from, there was a veil covering the foetus, the skin of man. I remember the place and the one who sent me here. He said it was because he loved me, and all those who would be part…
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Each One. . .Teach One. . .
. . . It always is a struggle between the correct thing and the right thing, no matter the subject or the action. The correct thing is not always comforting nor comfortable. And it generally is confrontational. Too much on our plate and we already want to hit delete. But whooooaaa!!! We…
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All Who I Am . . . Our Coats Of Many Colors. . .
I write again of my coats of many colors. Because I love and care for those in my life and love life itself, I will repeat those of my posts I feel urgent about. Since I have memories and dreams of lives lived and have written of them, apologetically lacking times, I rightfully attest to…
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Beneath the Wings. . . . .
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Throw A Kiss To The Stars. . .
Younger sisters should play by the rules and allow the elder to leave first. But my sister stayed as long as she was able and left us this week abruptly. This poem is personal in that love abounds. I whispered it in reading again with great love in our coming together as adults…
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The Sages Kick Start. . .
I keep on hand stenographer tablets to jot down notes I think important in rereading the journal entries. I came across this poem thoughts. I do not know when I wrote it nor what entry prompted it. I may have been deeply focused in thought with someone. I remember the first line glimpse I…
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The Invited Guest. . . .
with hammer and saw and wood and file. . . . Many of us when…