Choosing The Story

Just before storming morning air chills, two
birds trill from tall treetops in the gray, fly
above a black dog and I sitting through
grace. One quivering nose lifted to sky.

Cynical ones steaming in fear logy
from the media stream, schooled in the new
reality. Nefelibata me
barefoot, grounded, unmasked, singing my true

grasp of biology. Propaganda
cannily conquers, now a human face
connotes selfish-bonkers. A cough, slandered.
Has compassion now vanished from our race?

Inspired by: Grace, Cynical, Connote, Nefelibata, outings yesterday when I had to reveal personal medical information to strangers in order to buy their company’s goods (goodbye HIPAA), and this thoughtful piece by Kelly Brogan.

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Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

2 thoughts on “Choosing The Story”

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