I went back twelve
times, once for each
disciple, once for each
meditation
No time was the same
for I found I had outgrown
the place of my growing
Old jokes were no longer
humorous, old wounds
itching over with healing,
even some old memories
fading from me.
Kaitlyn Park
Salem,
Oregon, US
1 comment:
A most interesting and curious poem that I’ve read three times and cannot decipher but I can apply it to moments in my own life and what more can a reader ask for.
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