Saturday, November 9, 2013

Where Living Begins

The imperfect moments are where living begins

Hearing white in "We're letting you go" or worse
"It's me, not you" and the thinness of your first rejection letter
a pet or child rushed to an emergency room
feeling the warmth leave your parent's hand
the closing of a cold cell door

You learn to run through them
like the time you ran through the clacking
of willow branches blowing in a harsh wind

It's how you get from a to b
One step at a time

With a shoelace undone

1 comment:

  1. Wise words my Orange friend.

    Oh those imperfect moments; we either run through them and learn and grow with the experience – or become locked within them.

    Anna :o]

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