25th Birthday Present

Sprained. The ankle swang me

On a broken hinge, creaked

Me in the breeze against a poor

Supporting wall, Scratched black.

 

Nothing could feel better than

For the past to be present,

I did not feel murderous

Now was no victim, then.

 

Om Shanti, Peace, up and down

And down, Head to toes and toes

 To ground through lava deep and up

And Rising through to feet,

It never happened, all

Is healed.

 

Walking normally, no trouble, now.

Where is the gratitude?

Pain is memory, Now is new.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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