AlPater Posted July 5, 2016 Report Share Posted July 5, 2016 Poetry and Medicine | June 28, 2016 We only have our bodyCarol Snyder HalberstadtJAMA. 2016;315(24):2737. doi:10.1001/jama.2016.2000. Curl, and rest your head. There is no separation. We are the rooms and the gates that stand in open places, unsealed and closed behind us, becoming fewer. How do we move through the pain of what cannot continue? When I was five years old and my memories began in the sun among blackberries, I found a hen becoming maggots, its feathers of beauty stirring on the earth. Death cannot be healed. Our birth rises to it, as a firefly from the shadows. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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