"...Full, with everything
possible and intransient,
the slow pale oracle
of my longing
revealed something at last,
saying,
you can always
start over, levitating
from the edge
of a shadow,
as pure and whole
as this."
- from Moon, a poem by Zann Carter [1987]
That is how I feel, after bearing witness to my brother's last breath, after journeying back to the Smoky Mountains to scatter his ashes.
I feel like I am in a new land, starting over.
I have little idea of where I might be going in this new place, so I'm just sitting here awhile.
Breathing in
and out.
Being.
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