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Between the Light and the Dark

October 22, 2016

is it irony that my healing place is a space torn asunder?

my insides are my outsides here

from time to time explosions rip like thunder.


love conquers all

you were like the mountains here: dry in summer frozen in winter

but you don’t know how the roses smell here in November

and you’ve never seen an almond blossom

never tasted a mango, ripe and fresh

or spent time standing breast to breast

not understanding a word but knowing completely what was said.

dawn and dusk, the light and the dark


eternal gray where most of us lurk


caught in that suspended moment

my chest expands, lips spread wide

graciousness for simply being among the lucky

the alive

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