Doesn't poetry save lives?

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Karma ~

There was very little left 
to say,
but the cruelty could have been
limitless. 
She chose grace instead,
and all I remembered of her,
before she left,         
was humility.
She was what she was, but 
I left a larger person,
though broken.

I stepped out and found 
the evening clouds 
tinged with an ochre       
I had never seen.

For everything one loses,
there is something which always 
comes back.

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