I read the news….

All I want to do is put my hands

in the dirt.

Like the Priestess the Farmer or the Shaman

I see time

stretched in every direction

All those who call this place home…..

Scrambling … searching….. seeing power as commodity

Migrants off shore

Stranded

Panic and fear

Tornado stirs near my heart

I listen to the stories

Observe the feeling

Travel to my fingertips.

Sometimes it seems like one moment of Love

Makes this life worth living….

Still….

and

Trembling

Tumble from shore to sea

and

Back again.

Hands

Dirt

Tornado inside

Not asking why

Raise tolerance for living.

Eat what my mamma gave me.

and

Move on…

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