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Feb 2015
There was a time
when you could move mountains
with your smile, and the earth
was such a beautiful bridge.
Now Ursa dips deeply into
the dark well of sky while
little sister plays hide and seek,
perishing thoughts that
ride down with bitter cool.

How can you or I claim innocence
when we have both been here before.
Shall we cast down our glance in shame,
having lied through eyes of stolen charm.
Our birth is breached
as we cling tight to earlier yearnings.
And the wailing wall sounds
a whisper to the cry in my mind.

Those times when in spirit
our fingertips would brace,
prying open closed hearts
that had been slammed shut
by a life swung hard.
What fear brings this memory,
doesn't every tree stand alone
until you look below the ground.
Irving MacPherson
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