At every turna challenge – prefer scenicforays, encounterrocky climes – ironic twists,stretching this reluctant soul (Image my own)
Doctoring broken hearts –my own legacy a training ground –like an anesthesiologist I keep the patient breathing,asleep – muted by kindness,unconscious and unable to react. Why? Because lulling others is moreeffective than operating on self –faux obligations such a balm Administer lidocaine to the woundsNumbness preferable to open-heartedinvestigation… no sutures strong enoughto remedy internal bleeding […]
Somehow I knew his mask was porcelain –impossible to hide the soul’s lightreflected in troubled eyes… I played along though,humoured his self-deceptionnodded at assertions of calm Knew that one day the facade would crackthe mask would slip and the rage escape Why I didn’t run; I do not knowMaybe it was recognition –my own countenance […]
this both reads and looks delicate and vulnerable, precious life.
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Very precious. Thanks
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Love the poem – with the pictures. All delicate and yet balanced. Now we are fighting to keep that balance…
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Always….lol…thanks.
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Perfect to find that lovely bird with no leave to block your lens! Beautiful
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Don’t you love it when that happens? Not often enough. Thanks Tina.
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Beautiful words.
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Thank you!
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Beautiful, V.J., both the poem and the photos!
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Pas de quoi, mon amie!
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Thank you Terrie!
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Looks like I sent you two responses – one in french and intended for someone else, lol. Oh those senior moments.
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Ha ha! Believe it or not, I figured out what the one in French meant…. Have a great weekend!
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You too!
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Beautiful! ❤
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Thank you!
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