The Group


There is strength in vulnerability
To feel more, is to be rich
It’s an abundance of the inner world
Who cares for possessions?

I wasn’t born to be a profiteer
I’d rather be like the water
Touching here, touching there
Pliant to the relationship of relationships

Aware of how the unity shapes
The whole, of how the particulars
Transfer their energy, it’s morbid
To think of ourselves as isolated selves

It’s dehumanizing to go to war every day
In the marketplace, to the office
There’s a function in serving a group
To feel more, connected and belong

To an entity that is clasped on many sides
By the shared vulnerability of each one.




All we can read is life
Death is part of her script
Suffering and candles belong
To the living, all around us
And you will end somewhere else
Waiting to die, awkwardly loving
The world that did you some harm


All we can read is beauty
The small anonymous memories
That overpowered others, the questions
Never answered, that don’t belong
To the living or the wise, but
To the great beyond, the quilt of names
That we met, the few faces smiles
By the living, for the living


All we can read is life, flung by hands
That forged children from grassy wombs
Wombs that forgot their mother somehow
In the love that once felt so individual.

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