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Reflections -

from Volume 100 No 2


Let the wounds bleed

their salt and sadness

till there is nothing left

of grief or hidden hurt

not one failure

cast outside the circle

of forgiveness.  Sun

pours over the dry weeds

the thistle

the rusty twisted barbed wire

and the chassis

of the abandoned pick-up

and the wild rose

growing through the broken

windshield. Warm

and without judgment

light falls

into my cupped hands.