Dressing Gifts with Conflict


Watching the earth breathe in her simple needs…less a temptress or a priestess…but a tomboy…throwing sticks and stones.

Believing that all wants are the center of the storm.

Pointing a finger with a twisted twig at the way the better half lives.

Dressing our gifts with conflicts of bitter cold.

Yet, who has bullied who.

When will the breathing…not renew.

 

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