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Confession And Plea
CONFESSION AND PLEA
I confess
I am lost
Please help me
Am I here to teach?
Or else to learn?
Maybe both?
I confess
I am lost
Please help me
Must we always be acting
From our wounded places?
Or first be acting to heal?
I confess
I am lost
Please help me
It is clear you are lost too
Stop being a smartarse
Just be a child, be kind
She Seats Herself To Write
SHE SEATS HERSELF TO WRITE
She seats herself to write
Half fearing her writing
Will drive her mad while
Half hopes it will cure her
In two minds – Ah, if only
Thinks were so simple
Turmoil turmoil turmoil
Enough! Dismisses them all
And seats herself to write
Memoirs
MEMOIRS
A story or two
They’d tell out
These folded fingers
If gifted a fresh blush of
Lips, palate, tongue
A blessing this perhaps
Or rather more a curse
Or better still the both
A confession, an absolution
Each sat astride its mirror
Hubris swallowed, spat out
These crablike fingers
Clutching at straws
While nearby a camel
Patiently awaits a breaking
Oh, what a story
They would spill
Then two then three
Then four than five
These mottled fingers