Collage10 – Poemburst

PoemBurst

 

Writing a poem I am not alone:
all my sisters’ brothers’ parents’ children’s
tears commingle. My smile mirrors yours.

We are slaves heading north; we are hope-filled
women and children with guardian angels.
We are artists, healers, dove-song dancers–
dumbfounded, awestruck, dazzled, ecstatic!

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