Tag: short poems


How do we know
the presence of the Friend
draws near?
On a stump
at the edge of the field, someone
is opening a melon.
Every body knows.
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For Spring

My prayer is to live
by this returning moment:
anger recognizes itself,
lays itself down
in a fresh bed
of cold soil,
gives itself back
to the original longing.
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Scars We Touch

How curious
how our deepest wounds,
become scars we touch
to remember
who we are.
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Taking me
not seriously
but tenderly
the Mother makes it better
with a kiss that turns
into a raspberry.
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