Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Our doll

If only we could see within. Find optical clarity instead of the blur that makes a name more than a name. Velcro identity, opinions patched, stuck, and clung fast. Peeled of societies tags, there a baby lies, freshly screaming. It is our journey, to strip the foreign doll and find your beating heart, my brother, their sister. (“Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?” Jhn 1.46)

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