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(This poem showed up early this morning, unexpected and uninvited, and volunteered to be my next blog post.  I was startled, skeptical, and grateful.  I have become preoccupied with the challenge of returning to “normalcy” after my third Covid 19 infection. While I was caught up in the challenge of the discomforts and frustrations of this disease, I was also cognizant of my gratitude for Paxlovid, a gratitude I believe should be a communal one. After reconnecting and reconvening with the Pacific Ocean to conclude my forced absence, I decided to take the poem up on the offer. I have a hunch this poem and my relationship with the Covid 19 virus are related.)





The walls exist

to tell me

these are corridors,

     mere corridors.


I stumble through,

crumble through,

ricochet off the walls:

I find purchase and direction

     in the corridors.


The end point lacks light

so I (half-hearted) try, create it;

I struggle then to pay attention,

to notice thunder-free lightening

(on occasion)

     within the corridors.

"Life is not about waiting for the storms to pass. It's about learning how to dance in the rain."

-Vivian Greene -

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