Mel Kimura Bucholtz

Stillness Becoming Alive


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The rivers of your life
Flow through the palm of your hand,

Where they came from
Where they cross,
Where they bleed into the great sea
Beyond the shores of all hands;

Where they branch and fork
Twisting wildly like lightning
And disappear
Into dry creek beds

Leaving slippery pale scars
Tracing across your hand;

Memories to kneel down next to,
To touch at, guessing

“What life came this way,
faded out,
went where?”

Mel S. Kimura Bucholtz



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