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lost and found at tiny thing
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hope is the thing with feathers
What I can say is that it's fading. I don't feel so ugly, so leprous. I have compassion. I still have apolcalyptic visions but they're muzzled. I am no longer quite so unpalatable. It comes naturally to stand with her as a sister, staring down the universe with rooted feet, hands on our hips, defiant. And with every day that passes I'm more able to stand with the other 98%, not so paralyzed, all of us the same, almost.
My snakes are cherished. I would not have chosen them but they're made of light now. They swirl and they float, sometimes loose and high, sometimes encircling and tangled with memory.
I have seen death, but nightmares sink to the bottom where there is also love. sweet | salty
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