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an education in the fine art of goodbyes; a lesson in loving and letting go. acceptance: last to arrive in sorrow - the passing of all that I thought I held. teach me how to let go, and release me. I open my hands - finally, freefall - I see now: all things are transient. |
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all of it beyond me now, floating away I'm trying to learn that I can't stay - yet I still reach back, grasp the next solid thing I know to be true and feel it dissolve - the foundation I'm built on is washing away; all of my elements unstitched, I'm adrift. |
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before towers took root; before train tracks splintered out like veins, the rolling foothills, the river valley belonged to the man at the station who asks if I can spare a dollar, because I remind him of his daughter. he explains where I can catch my bus (I look lost) he says he's been there all day hoping to net that spare change - no luck yet. and all I can see is the prairie - once, before the sidewalks, before the stores. that's the kind of change we hand out to those who wait. I remind him of his daughter - but I'll look after my father for all of his days; and this daughter has let him down, just like the land that should have been his. I don't have a dollar to give him, so I go, but my soul stays beside him - on a bench at a station in a city on the prairie - also hoping for change. |