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Another Version of Ourselves

Updated: Feb 5, 2023

Author sitting in creek

More death

And anger from a friend misdirected at me

Another ends his


One more woman left behind cradling a bowl of love

Another dumping hers filled with rage

Over a parked car. Silly things. We are. Forgetting what’s important in this short life.

It’s hard to watch.

People bleeding on the ones who didn’t cut them.

And I wonder why

Why is all of this happening now?

I didn’t put this movie on

Who scratched the CD

Playing playing playing over

Close my eyes


The breeze feels gentle

The sun is softer than it has been

Beating down

I am still okay

I feel my own sadness

Not theirs

What a relief

We aren’t made to hold more than our own

My storms are starting to move me, no longer hold me

It’s new and strange, standing this steady

Not long ago, I would’ve been a hurricane by now

Blowing away anyone who came near

Violent loud blinding deafening sheets tearing slicing

Pointing to others pain and saying they proved mine too

But I don’t feel the irrational chaotic swallowing tide of pain

Those waters that carried in the old crap that never made it out to sea

What I feel is still.

And the coolness of a breeze on this sunny summer day

This is the pace that my beautiful storm moves me

I am growing

I am not the same as I used to be

Perhaps we live through the old stories again to be another version of ourselves.


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