Threads mark our paths from before to here.
Each is woven of water and of blood and fire and ghosts.
We cannot stop them from spooling out of our bellies,
We can bind our hands our feet.
We can hold the thread lightly.
There is a reason the human heart cannot remember pain.
Jane Ann Flint
I find this poem beautifully relevant and frame it in my mind in an alcove with camellias and a "Pine tree green a thousand years."
I think Jane and Norman Fischer offer solutions that lead gently to peace, not war.
