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3 generations of dust gathered
on a groove outside my
window,
breeze licks hair licks salt to nose
are we all not
here but to suffer
in our own forgetful minds

This loneliness and sunny languor
is a mirage
so big I cannot fathom
it, nor can I remember
my sadness's Name
i fixed the error, but it trended oops
Sunday I met you
and now it's Thursday
haven't left your bed
since

Spring weather so riotous
and erratic
love so dangerous it breaks
hearts and bedsprings
bent blankets and electric
tingles hands scraping
each other's bodies
inspired by a friend, the seatbelt effect's poem
I am Living, to spend time with those with broken hearts.
I am Living, to Pray for those that are hurting and dying.
I am Living, to bring Joy to those that are in mourning today.
I am Living, to help those that are hurting with sufferings.
I am Living, I to hurt but my Lord is at work healing me.
So that he can use me by example to encourage others.
I am Living, to Love upon any whom need Christ now.
I am Living, to encourage others to grab onto Christ healing.
I am Living so that Christ can use me to help others today.
<<<>>>

It was a few inches from my rubber shoes,
i almost stepped on it!
if i had, i would forever feel guilty...
i was in shock, and....puzzled
a small yellow creature.....moving forward
when it should have moved upwards...
in its silence, its voice rang in my mind
friends had already left the area, but,
i waited....for clearance...
........hoping, to see it rise again, and.....
......redeem itself...
but,
my expectations seemed doomed
..............so, they failed
..........i finally turned to leave
......and...left its fate....
...to its empowered movers.....

It resembled a new yacht...being wheeled
by a bigger cart, towards the ocean,
for its initial dip..........
:::::::::the wings of this yellow creature
were widely spread....seemed ready to soar high
yet, it didn't move a bit...
it could no longer fly...
:::::
for the last time, i looked,
:::::::::::: and saw,
four tiny black ants, persevering,
painstakingly carrying
this dead yellow butterfly...
the trail went on and on, toward
their inconspicuous hill on the ground...

my feelings were indefinable that moment,
it was hard to speak...or decide
......ants?...... or .........butterflies?
::::: not their fault...they both matter! :::::




Sally

Copyright March 16, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
March quiet cold
Afternoon of scarlet orbs
Trees within trees ,
Red and gold leaves ,
Songbirds appear to welcome me ,
Continual chatter from 'the Creators canopy'
White Pines scrub together
Two lifelong sparrows of a feather*..
Copyright March 16 , 2017 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
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