Odds are

Reconciliation does not come
Outside of an inkling of fear
Unless the wound
Is of such a unique nature
That it could not arise again
Even if fully intended.
Who am I kidding?
Wounds can be reopened
In the perfect storm
In spite of the toughest scar tissue.
What makes the difference
Is who we allow
To see
The scar
And who we are sure to cover it up around.
Takes a bit of faith at least
A lot of strength at most
And at least one person who
Is well adept
At building bridges.
Birth is a reconciliation with our own life,
Death, with God.
Every breath that passes in between,
Is an opportunity to be reconciled,
To every living thing
That we cross paths with,
The ripples based on degree of separation,
And the bridges we find
And build
When no one is watching.


Being heard, stirred, and perhaps cured by life's many hidden images and the written-spoken word.
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