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[134] Spun

  • Writer: Lorraine Johnson
    Lorraine Johnson
  • Sep 25, 2022
  • 1 min read

The humming bird

and silence calls

around the bush,

we circle all

unspoken words,

the bird chirps on

the thread is spun

—before truth is sung


not all that's same

rides the same train

the looking glass

the mold is broke

and truth appears

walked—and unyoked.

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