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Saturday, April 16, 2022

Internet Support Group

In the shadow of a maple tree, on a grassy hill,

Three women laid hands on me.

One saw a cave inside my hips. Another felt bricks

Rising from a brook. The last heard a bellow

From deep within the woods. We were strangers

Come with every one other to pay not here an afternoon

Drinking tea & sharing stories of cellular bad luck,

Then straight away makeshift healers

Summoning our mothers' lessons on touch—

On hotness & symmetry, tenderness & release.

From above, we strength have looked exist fond of sundials

Or spokes on a circular knitting loom.

We wanted so poorly to believe

In our management dividing we ignored the obvious.

That milk thistle grows here since of stolen land.

The auspicious coming of geese is the consequence of

Migratory patterns. Even the static inside our cells

Likely explainable by simple division.

It's embarrassing, sometimes, how a lengthy way I'll go

Searching for unprecipitated magic,

Much I'll trust that pine air cures cancer

Or the hawk overhead is only keeping watch.

#Living #Health & Illness #Sorrow & Grieving #The Body #Nature

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Truth hurts! Nothing is perfect, life is messy. Relationship are complex. Outcomes are uncertain, people are irrational.


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