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I awake with you asking me the same questions, and I answer truthfully and then I cry.
But I don’t know if I cry of joy or sorrow because before I can take another breathe the dream is over and you are sleeping next to me. And the dream is a piece of yarn that unravels me into waking life where I don’t have the courage to answer you truthfully.
The vague areas of life

Where do we hold vagueness as a tool
What does it conceal
Does it reflect hefty weight of responsibility or cowardice or
Of inauthenticity or the search for the discipline in life to continue to steer us in our direction of growth

How good of a judge are we of truth ? Does truth need a judge ? What if truth destroys and hurts when it too subjective and narrow ? What truth are then healing and which not ?

Can the weight of what is vague be felt ? And if so as what ?
Last leaves swept
Pile

Years heaped

Wan smile
Donde la vida te lleve
ahí se abrirá de luz
From one gut wrenching moment to the next you breathe, you breathe, you breathe
and listen–to the bird’s song and water trickling until the leaves become leaves and you become you, again
Modern day genocide where thousands  of children are being killed. To who do we refer to when  we say we will leave this earth better for the children . Who do we say are our children if not all of them. I know I didn’t choose to be born where I was born. To speak languages I speak, I simply opened my eyes and there I was.

What fault do young children have to be treated with such cruelty. I could have been born anywhere, been of any race and of any religion.
I see the oatmeal boil in hot water.
That is my mind I think to myself, and that’s all human lives lifting as they are born and sinking once they died
We should see each and think brother, sister– earthly kin.

Love our kin so deeply that when they survive
the unkind acts that do unfold
in life we sit with them and cry

May we love our kin so deeply we become even more courageous and emboldened
to stand in the door way if they wish to seek revenge

Walk them through their pain
to understand their hate and sorrow because the wick of  hatred will burn them distort & corrode them burying
the thread between the world and them melting away
their peace–their heaven on earth surrendered
if they walk through that door
If you walk down the hallway of all your sorrow Watch on each passing door a projector display the whirling colors of the hands bearing gifts and shackles, shaking trees under frightening storms and caskets of people and things seemingly lost. If down this corridor you continue, I promise you will get to the very end where only a final door in front of the corridor remains open where the temperature suits your skin and life still exists lighter and freer than where you were before. This gift I am sure you will receive if you walk through that corridor of your sorrow and you step through that final door
I have lifted the mug to quench my own thirst. I content,—— a middle line, silence, full as I always was find myself beautiful and find you divine. I need no other reason but this deep love of ours here on the spin-off rock to smile.
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