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Contemplation
By Debra Wendt
Sometimes –
the world’s troubles seem too much for us.
We have our own:
within
among –
the world rushes toward our eyes,
sound as cymbals crash in our ears,
breath – this life-breath –
resilient
tenuous
a slender thread that pulls,
snags
may break – is it then –
we nourish fear
run toward falsehood
swallow bitterness;
and forget –
there is a guide.
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